AllFreeNovel
Share Us
AFTER UNTYING HER AND rubbing a pomade upon the places where the nine-tail had landeed, he pulled the covers over Miss Herwood as sleep overtook her. He gathered his coat and stepped softly to the door. He turned at the threshold to look at her in peaceful slumber, her hair spread over the pillows, one bare arm curled above her head. If he did not leave soon, he might be tempted to wake her to relieve the bulge at his crotch. Forcing himself through the door, he tried not to recall how she had looked stretched to the bedposts in glorious nakedness, her sweet cunnie open to him like a blossom to the sun.
When he had first invited her to Chateau Follet, he had mostly selfish reasons. He wanted another taste of her body. He wanted to satiate his own lust. But ever since her acceptance, her pleasure had become the dominant priority. He derived much enjoyment from seeing her spend and surprised himself that he had not yet ravished her for his own sake.
And now another woman took him from attending to his own needs.
He made his way back to the East Wing and headed straight for the ballroom in search of Isabella. The ballroom was the focus of activity for the East Wing. Hearty flames crackled from all four fireplaces and provided much of the light desired by the hostess. The chandeliers above were kept dim, allowing for pockets of darkness throughout the room. Lush sofas lined the walls beneath erotic paintings and golden candelabras. The center of the room, however, looked more like a medieval dungeon with body racks, wooden pommels, an iron cage, and other furnishings of torture.
Isabella sat upon one of the sofas beside Lord Devon. She had partaken of more wine in the meantime as evidenced by her shining eyes, flush cheeks and constant giggling. Her partner, too, was happily inebriated and attempting to devour her neck. He had her legs across his thighs.
“Lord Rockwell!” Isabella exclaimed as she tried to right herself without spilling the wine from the glass she held.
Devon sat up and tried to focus his gaze on Halsten in the darkness. “Rockwell? Where is thy ladybird?”
“Resting,” Halsten replied, grimly staring at Devon. “One should not extend the abilities of a novice at Chateau Follet.”
“Is Miss Sherwood the ninny or you?” Isabella teased.
“Come, have a drink with us,” Devon invited. “Perhaps a good burgundy will provide you the necessary nerve.”
Biting his tongue, Halsten pulled up a chair as Devon motioned to one of the serving maids. A young naked waif approached them with a bottle and glasses. She kept her gaze demurely at the floor as she offered Halsten a glass. Devon ogled the maid as she poured more wine into his glass.
“Lovely is she not?” Devon purred into Isabella’s ear.
Isabella giggled. “They must get very cold in the winter.”
“Winter is delightful. Their nipples are constantly erect.”
He pretended to pinch one of hers. Isabella swatted at his hand and laughed. She seemed to notice the serious look Halsten gave her and stopped
Devon followed her gaze. “Why so sullen, my good fellow? I urge you, bring that Miss Sherwood of yours here. You’ll be a happier man.”
Halsten forced his mouth from a frown even as he retorted silently that he would not bring Miss Herwood within an arm’s length of Devon.
“That won’t be necessary,” he said. “I am content to observe.”
“I’ve no qualms with that.” He raised a glass at Halsten.
Isabella struck Devon playfully across the chest. “Surely you jest!”
“Has Lord Devon not shared with you his fancy for exhibitionism?” Halsten asked of her.
Her eyebrows rose at Lord Devon.
“I assure you, it is quite thrilling,” Devon told her.
Hers was a nervous smile.
“To Chateau Follet and its many thrills,” Halsten said raising his glass.
“Here, here,” Devon replied, downing his glass of wine.
Halsten, who had taken the bottle from the serving maid, refilled Devon’s glass.
A bell chimed, drawing their attention to a clearing in the center of the ballroom. A woman lay naked upon a long table. Her dominant, wearing only a pair of breeches, announced, “It pleases me to share my submissive with the honored guests of Madame Follet.”
“No!” Isabella cried out in wonder, covering her ruby red lips with her slender hand.
“Oh, yes,” Devon growled beneath his breath as he imbibed more wine.
