Under a Stern Reign (10 page)

Elise absorbed the woman's words, and then nodded. ‘It is best that you talk to my stepfather soon,' she said. ‘This evening when he returns, or first thing tomorrow morning. You should stay here tonight. I will have the guestroom prepared.'

 

After Madame Coubette retired to her room Elise remained sitting for a while, her thoughts spinning with new plans and the hatching of new plans.

So Madame Coubette, the woman she had instinctively hated, was now her ally! Could her whore's plan work? Could the woman really serve to protect her and her stepfather from the revolution? And could she ensure that the silent passions that ran between him and her finally found an outlet?

The prospect had seemed dim until now, but Madame Coubette's guile and experience were beyond question, and if there was anyone who could help, it might be her after all...

Elise began thinking about Genevieve. How enjoyable it had felt bringing the beautiful girl to heel with her commands, and bringing her to the brink of her pleasures again. And, without doubt, Genevieve was beginning to love it, despite her coyness. Genevieve, as simple and beautiful as she was, was now her slave and it was simply her coyness that held her back.

After the count had punished them both in the library, he had detained Elise. She thought about how she stood before him, naked. He told her never to do what she had done with Genevieve again. What a strain his anger must have been for him; as she stood proudly before him she could not take her lowered eyes away from the prominent bulge thrusting from inside his breeches. And no doubt he could not have failed to observe what her eyes were observing.

But if the count made love to her while married to Madame Coubette, as the woman planned, how would Genevieve fit in?

Would the blossoming fun between her and her blonde friend be allowed to continue? Surely the hypocrisy would prove too great?

From the way the count had looked at Genevieve that day, and from the way Madame Coubette had looked at her upstairs in the bedchamber, it appeared that they too might want to indulge their own extraneous fantasies with the fair-haired beauty.

And what of it? Elise asked herself. If the count made her his woman, did anything else really matter?

Remembering the luscious vision of Genevieve tied and vulnerable over her bed made Elise stir, so she rose and went upstairs to the girl's bedroom, entering without knocking.

A solitary candle on a dresser opposite Genevieve's bed lit the room with a soft orange glow. Elise gazed at the white folds of sheets and could see the girl's blonde head buried in the pillows, her back turned to her as she approached.

‘Are you awake?' Elise whispered.

Genevieve turned and sat up, and as she did so the sheet about her slid from her shoulders revealing her bare breasts. Elise contemplated them secretly. How comely they were...

‘What do you want?' Genevieve muttered sleepily.

‘I came to see how you are.'

‘I'm fine,' Genevieve said shortly.

Elise slowly unbuttoned the bodice of her dress, and as she opened it her full breasts swayed firmly into view. Genevieve's eyes flitted over them, and standing before her, Elise dropped the dress to the floor. Genevieve gazed at Elise's body, shapely and alluring.

‘What are you doing?' she whispered. ‘If the count finds us like this again there'll be even more trouble for us.'

Elise ignored her comment, moving towards the dressing table. She sat down on the stool before it and looked at herself in the mirror. In the reflection she could see Genevieve, still watching her. She looked down at the table and picked up the heavy gilded hairbrush, running it through her long black locks.

‘What have you been doing today?' she asked Genevieve's reflection.

‘I made a new friend,' Genevieve told her. ‘Someone you used to know.'

‘Oh?' Elise said, arching her eyebrow.

‘Yes, Emelie,' Genevieve continued. ‘You remember Emelie, of course. A very pretty girl, blonde and graceful. She worked here once.'

‘Oh, yes,' Elise muttered. ‘And where did you meet her?'

‘She lives a few miles from here.' Elise turned on the stool to face her friend, interested in what she was hearing. ‘It was once her husband's home, apparently, but he's left her.'

‘Oh,' Elise said, looking quizzical. ‘You wouldn't, by any chance, mean the old hunting lodge, would you?'

‘I don't know.'

‘We own a hunting lodge in the woods. Because it was so seldom used an old employee of ours, Pierre Narbonne, asked my father a few years ago if he could live there. My father agreed, and then probably forgot about it. Emelie must have married Pierre. So that's what happened to her... But the old lodge is de Tranville property.'

‘She's a lovely girl,' Genevieve muttered.

‘I know,' Elise acknowledged, and then fell silent, and staring at Genevieve, she continued brushing her hair. Genevieve watched her thoughtfully, and Elise felt her quiet gaze, quirkily lowering the hairbrush to her thighs and passing it lightly over the dark curls between her thighs. Genevieve's face reddened.

‘It was a shame how our little lesson was so rudely interrupted the other night,' Elise mused. ‘We were only just starting and we haven't yet managed to finish.'

‘I thought your stepfather had finished it.'

‘Well not as far as I'm concerned. So come over here.'

‘But what if he finds us?' Genevieve asked anxiously.

‘He won't, he's in town. Now, we were learning about submission. Come here.'

Genevieve obediently lifted the sheet and slipped out of bed, stepping lightly to Elise.

‘Not like that,' Elise snapped playfully. ‘Get down on your hands and knees and crawl to me. Crawl like a cur.'

Genevieve paused. ‘Must I?' she whispered.

‘Yes, you must, now do as I say and crawl,' Elise commanded.

Genevieve obeyed again, and looked up to find Elise had parted her thighs, beckoning Genevieve towards their lush centre, lewdly massaging her succulent sex lips. ‘You remember my little pleasure bud?' Elise whispered. ‘Now finish kissing it for me...'

Genevieve swallowed and moved her mouth to Elise's crotch, passing her tongue over it nervously. It was warm and wet. She closed her eyes and let her tongue flicker, gently passing it over the spot she had kissed before. Then Elise's hand roughly clasped the back of her head again, pulling it tighter into the fragrant warmth.

‘That's it, slave,' Elise sighed, her buttocks squirming on the stood. She looked down over Genevieve's lovely blonde head, bobbing quietly between her thighs.

Bending forward she ran her hands over Genevieve's back, stroking her from buttocks to shoulders. Then, on a whim, she looked at the hairbrush in her hand, and Genevieve's buttocks seemed so unsuspecting, quivering away prettily as she licked. Laughing to herself quietly, Elise massaged the back of Genevieve's head with one hand and then brought the brush down with a thwack on the side of Genevieve's bottom, a shocked gasp instantly bursting from the kneeling girl.

She pulled back and stared at Elise blankly, the pain intense and unexpected, destroying the passionate concentration into which she had drifted. What was the enigmatic girl doing to her? Why had she done that? She crawled to her so obediently, kissed her so intimately, so why hit her?

Getting to her feet Emelie suddenly flashed into Genevieve's mind, and the words of the pretty girl came back. The warning...

With tears in her eyes she'd told her of how Elise had played games with her heart. And what was happening to her now? She was being taught how to enjoy, but to enjoy what? The cruel whims of Elise...

‘Come back here, silly,' Elise ordered, but Genevieve shook her head, and turning rebelliously she grabbed her discarded nightdress and slippers from the foot of her bed and ran out of the room, along the landing and down the stairs.

In a panic she stood in the hall, not knowing what to do. She wanted to get away but where would she go? Hastily putting on her nightdress and slippers she caught sight of the old woollen cloak Emelie had lent her. She hurried to it and threw it around her shoulders, again fastening it at her throat.

Emelie, she had been so sweet and kind. She would go to her now, the only person she could turn to. Genevieve raced to the front door, unlocked it hurriedly and ran out into the cold night.

 

After disciplining Elise and Genevieve in his library, Count de Tranville passed a restless night.

The desirability of the two girls had been so deeply embedded in his mind, and as he tried to sleep taunting images of them, submissive and beautiful, swirled in his head and left him with an erection he was forced to relieve by his own hand.

He knew in his heart that the whole event was of Elise's doing, yet he had punished poor Genevieve more severely than her. He knew he was doing it, and he had enjoyed punishing them both so much that he was within a hairsbreadth of fucking one or both of them.

Genevieve had surprised him, clearly getting lustful as her punishment was administered. He remembered how deliciously she writhed on the desktop, causing his cock to strain against the confines of his clothing.

The next day he went into town to finalise affairs before his departure. Rodolfo would be arriving the following week and then they would begin their journey to the port of La Rochelle, and then by boat to Portugal... and then what?

He arrived in Rency early in the morning and went to the bank immediately to withdraw his gold.

Placing it within secret compartments under the bench of his coach he then went to see two acquaintances whom he knew to be loyal to the old regime, and who might be able to see that his estate would remain untouched and held safely until his eventual return from abroad - for return he surely would when the madness sweeping France was finally over. They were the notaries Michel Germaine-Troyes and Achille de Bourgogne, two respected gentlemen used to dealing exclusively with the affairs of the nobility. The two proved extremely sympathetic to the count's plight, and assured him that they would do their best to legally safeguard his home and possessions.

At around midday he finished with them, and as they wished him farewell and good luck he wondered what to do for the rest of the day. But he felt no urgency to return home.

He instructed his coachman, a loyal old servant who had been with the family for many years, to return to the chateau and unload the gold into the safety of the cellars, then to return to Rency in the evening and meet him in a small inn at the town's entrance.

Alone, the count walked through the streets considering how this would be the last time he saw the place for several years. He stopped at the square, where groups of merchants stood selling their wares before the town hall. Fruit sellers, fishmongers, cobblers, many were there to make some money out of something. Bright colours and twittering sounds came from one stall on a corner of the square, and he approached it.

An old man was selling colourful caged birds, and the count gazed at the beautiful exotic creatures. They were canaries, parrots and minor birds; birds from the New World, and they talked! Birds that repeated names. ‘Robespierre!' exclaimed one. ‘Marat!' squawked another.

Perhaps it might be nice to buy a few and take them home to impress Elise and Genevieve, he considered. But they would be leaving very soon, he reflected, and it would be silly to start burdening their journey with extra baggage.

After a while he found a tavern, and by early afternoon he had lunched and, growing melancholy, gone through three bottles of red wine.

A little later he found another tavern, and talking intermittently with passing locals, he managed to drink three mugs of beer, another bottle of wine and two glasses of a local brandy.

As the late afternoon drew on, the count, slightly tipsy to say the least, made his way to another tavern that turned out to also be the local brothel. He sat, and was soon approached by two of the hostelry's wenches. Both were plain and well-used things, but the count was bored and pleased to talk with them. They were keen to take him to a room, but he gazed at them wearily. One was blondish, short and chubby and missing a front tooth. The other was darker, round-faced and heavy-hipped. The count saw nothing to excite him.

But, as his mind kept going back to his two charges and as he drank even more, he decided to go along with the two whores, so he went to their room.

He didn't ask them to undress. Instead he told them both to bend over and lift their skirts, and as the two, side by side, squatted with their flabby bare bottoms in the air, he skewered them both, absentmindedly passing his member from one to the other, slapping and groping their fat buttocks.

He moved from one to the other, humping one for a few minutes, then humping the other for a few minutes, before finally telling them he'd had enough. He didn't find the steam to ejaculate into either of them, but he paid them both well.

By the early evening Count de Tranville was just about sober enough to remember his rendezvous with his coach at the arranged inn. He staggered through the darkening streets, but no coach was to be seen at the front of the designated hostelry, so he decided to go in and carry on drinking until it arrived.