Joy V. Sheridan writes

Charity Amour

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX part 1

“What, Natalie, not eating your food?” Natalie d’Esprit moved uncomfortably in her chair and raised her handkerchief to her nose. She blew hard then looked up. “Seems this dratted cold has quite put me off my food, Fitzi.” 

He had not heard her, but there was no mistaking the deep-throated rumble of sexual approval from his direction, which was at the head of the polished mahogany table. Madame cast her eyes downwards once more, examining with seeming fascination the crisped brownness of the roasted potatoes.

“Don’t bother bout ’er Highness there, what she’ll do an’ what she’ll not do. You an’ me, Marie, ’ere can ’ave an additional course for our dinner tonight.” 

The girl smirked vindictively and victoriously towards Madame de Esprit, who sat stony-faced, her handkerchief pressed hard against her reddened nose. 

“Let me climb tighter onto you, Sir.” The plump wench looked about for her companion. “C’mon, Marie: give us a hand!” 

Still Natalie d’Esprit kept her thoughts to herself and her tongue clamped in irons. She could feel the rough kicking going on between Jarvis and Hinches. Even these two coarsened old buccaneers were giggling and enjoying the show. “Umm, that's nice, Sir. Marie, let ’is lordship here do as 'e wants.” 

The plump girl's half-naked buttocks were riding up and down against the table’s edge, the sound of the pair copulating crackling around the food stuff, sending the porcelain plates shaking. The plump girl began to moan, low and loud, throwing her backside even more ardently against the table.

It seemed at one point that the table had actually been lifted from its footing. The skinny redhead was hovering about the fornicating duo, her eyes misty with barely suppressed lust. Jarvis, noting her inclination, made to move from his seat, but Madame had beaten him to it. 

“If you gentlemen will excuse me, I shall retire to my room. This cold,” she sneezed loudly, “is becoming unbearable!” Hinches, with a flash of courtesy, held the chair away for her. Madame’s removal from her place at table jolted Lord Rispian’s attention. He had not heard her excuse.

“You leaving us so soon, Nat. Don’t tell me you can’t take the pace? Good god, that’s thick coming from the likes of you!” “As I said,” Madame’s tones were icing as she passed them, “I find this cold unbearable. I am trying to wrest it from myself by relaxation and sleep. If you don’t mind, after all, this is still my home, I shall bid you all a very good night.” 

She need not have bothered to say anything else, for Lord Rispian was by this time harder at work upon the heaving cleft of the corpulent female, seeking to relieve his own over-heated passion. Jarvis, renewed now into a different vigour, and hearing the door slammed tight, walked rapidly over to the redhaired wench and, pushing lascivious lips against her own, all but forced her onto the table top, sending the dishes and foodstuffs flying in the process. 

Lord Rispian looked up, half-dazed, “ ....... Eh,.... What? Oh I see: bloody good move. Clear the boards! Clear the boards!” 

 

His thick, reddened penis was evident as he stood up and set about the process of throwing armfuls of tableware and dishes to the floor. He held the plump wench back on the table, her legs bent up at the knees. Jarvis by this time was performing various acts of his own devising, his thin, sausage-shaped and slightly flaccid penis twitching over the redhead’s thin lips. Hinches, joining the orgy, soon had the slender girl up on the table. Whilst his colleague, Jarvis (with a now more alert penis), was pushing it hard and fast into the wench's gaping mouth, so Hinches had untrousered his manhood and was negotiating a channel between the hanks of bright red hair about the girl’s mount of Venus. 

With a final thrust he had entered the girl and she would have screamed had not she been enmouthed with Jarvis’s most sensitive piece of flesh. Lord Rispian was heaving harder and harder; the elusive orgasm eluding him, judging from the exclamations and oaths he was mouthing. Not so for his corpulent partner, judging by the sounds she was gasping. 

As he looked up, the blood-stains he witnessed seemed to put a keener edge to his carnal fork. He moved off the girl, Simone, and pushing Hinches out of the way, began to mount the thin filly himself. With a tremendous strike and yell of achievement, he spurted his seed onto the thin shanks inside her legs. 

Hinches, not to be outdone, had taken the plump wench from the table and was then in the process of fucking her hard, against the cold flagstones. Jarvis, still in command of his seed, was looking hungrily down upon the heartily copulating couple and watching them. He moved himself away from the redhead’s mouth and pushed himself hard into the wet, warm, newly broken cavern of the girl. She was crying, more in pain than in pleasure. At length, as he watched his colleague buckling up to a crescendo, he lifted the thin wench’s haunches, yelling low and coarse to her: "C’mon you bitch, now, now, oh c’mon you bitch."

Rispian, resting for a couple of minutes, threw some strong, red wine down his throat and then, as though taken by an idea, left the room. He went to Madame’s chamber and knocked hard on the door. She did not know what to do. “Come on out Nat. I want you to enjoy a little fun with us.” What should she do? She could not afford an exhibition of his wrath. “Coming.” 

She threw a wrapper of thick flannel about herself and opened the door. Whooping with delight, he swung her into his arms and conveyed her back downstairs. She knew then with unenviable logic that she was destined to partake in this crude orgy. She gritted her teeth together. This was where professionalism came in. She’d make them all feel the amateurs that they were. “Fitzi,” she whispered urgently into his ears as she surveyed the room, “Why not give me a few minutes alone with the girls. I can perhaps, prepare some surprises for you....?” “Whaddya say?” A gleam of understanding came into his eyes. “Yes, why don we do jus’ that?”

He watched the fornicating duos and then snapped his fingers against each other hard. Hinches looked up. “Dismount, men.” Jarvis looked around in questioning amazement. “Madame here wants to prepare some pleasant surprises for us.”

Madame smiled. Her most professional and beguiling smile. “That is correct, gentlemen. Now if you gentlemen would like to wait elsewhere in the house...ah, the reception room maybe. It is not too cold in there, for there has been a fire built and lit: then I shall give you the summons when we girls are ready.” 

She turned and smiled graciously towards the dishevelled pair of females, a hint of malice in her beautiful and icy eyes. “Now, ladies, if you will follow me.” She took them up the stairs. And up again. It was bitterly cold. She began to remove items from a stiff-hinged closet. “Hold these before we return to the bedrooms, will you my dear?” She thrust some heavy lengths of chain towards Simone. ”Now, what is your name, my dear?”

The girls, shivering from their recent exertions and the cold of this unheated part of the house, looked at each other and taking her courage between her lips, the plump wench almost stuttered with chill as she spoke, “Marie is the red-haired one Ma’am, and my name is Simone.” 

Madame smiled radiantly by the light of the lantern she held and thrust some manacles into the girls’ hands. 

Satisfied, she slapped the dust from off her hands, sneezed loudly and hurried them back down the stairs.