Bride of the Revolution (26 page)

‘Kneel!' the woman ordered. ‘Suck him!'

‘That's it, Charlotte,' hissed a rough voice. ‘Let him die happy.'

Madame struggled. It was the end – the end for both of them. ‘Philipe!' she cried to her lover. ‘Goodbye!'

A balmy evening, and the gypsies gathered round their camp fire waiting for the women to prepare their meal.

‘Listen!'

As one, the men turned in the direction in which Veranti pointed. ‘Someone approaches,' he whispered. ‘A woman. I can hear the swish of her skirts.' His head went up and he sniffed the still air. ‘Young,' he murmured, ‘ripe. Very ripe.'

One of the younger men rose up from his seat by the fire and stood close to Veranti. The wise one cocked his ear again. ‘She wears jewellery. I hear a chain sway against flesh. She draws closer.'

‘She is beautiful,' said the young fellow who was called Peli.

She had stepped into the clearing. The black servant's gown she wore sat ill on her. The swell of her breasts strained the bodice and the waist was loose, hanging about its slenderness and drooping untidily over the curve of her hips.

‘Who are you?' asked Peli, and he walked towards her. The blue-black hair was like his own; thick and lustrous, catching the cold light of the full moon which made it shimmer like jet and the flickering firelight which turned it to bronze.

‘Help me!'

She was foreign, by her voice, thought Peli.

‘Careful, lad,' warned Veranti, plucking at his sleeve. ‘She could be a decoy for the Peelers, and we've got those kegs of brandy…'

Peli shrugged away from the older man and went towards the girl. Green eyes shimmered with tears and the full breasts heaved, almost bursting from the too tight bodice. The gown was not hers, Peli knew that, and he ached to have her beneath him, naked, her breasts free and her thighs outstretched. There was something about her. She was submissive, but courageous and sensual in the extreme. He sniffed the air, trying to catch the aroma of her ripeness noticed by Veranti; the female musk.

‘I have run away,' she said haltingly.

Peli's eyes flickered from the heaving breasts to the girl's sweet face; so innocent. Veranti must be wrong, surely. This one must be a virgin.

‘From where?' asked Peli. He stood close to her now, at the edge of the clearing. He took her hand and tried to draw her into the circle, by the fire, but she held back and he noticed there were faint scars at her wrists. She had been manacled; a slave.

‘The manor house,' she murmured.

Peli's breath caught in his throat. ‘One of Lord Albert's girls?'

‘He is in danger!' Her eyes darkened as they became wider.

Veranti stood beside Peli now, and he laughed. ‘In danger? Him? What danger could he be in? He cares only for himself and the fortune he has amassed.'

The girl bowed her head and Peli saw tears fall upon the pale slopes of her breasts, glittering like crystals in the moonlight. ‘They will kill him,' she murmured, choking back her sobs.

‘Who?' asked Peli. The girl's beauty and her distress, as well as his own need, tore at his cock.

She raised her head. ‘The revolutionaries.'

Veranti laughed, throwing back his head. ‘The man is a smuggler, a spy for both sides in France, and a dealer in women…'

The girl's face, already pale, became as white as the chalk on the cliffs below their camp. ‘A dealer in women?' she asked, and her tongue tripped over the words.

‘For the harems in Morocco,' explained Peli. All the fight seemed to go out of the girl and she collapsed in his arms.

Veranti's hearty laughter followed them as they walked into the thick stand of trees.

She made no murmur as Peli lifted her skirt and trailed his dark fingers up her thighs. The full skirt impeded his hands and he growled his anger, his frustration. To his surprise the girl gathered her skirt and lifted it over her head, to stand before him naked. Had his cock not been fully turgid in his breeches it would have become so immediately he saw her body.

‘Will you scream if I touch you?' he asked. His own eyes widened as he looked down at her full flesh pot. Her sex was shaven smooth and added to her air of youth and innocence. She shook her head and the movement made the chain slung from one breast to the other quiver. The chain was looped through two gold hoops pierced into the flesh of nipples, which were permanently erect and flushed to a rose-pink.

Peli threw the discarded gown on the woodland floor and eased her down upon it. Without a word from him she opened her thighs and lifted her knees, giving him full freedom. He gazed in wonder at the sight revealed to him. With trembling hands he reached out to the delicious sight, but her eyes hardened and she cupped her fingers over the smooth mound.

‘If I let you do anything you wish to me, will you do me a great favour?' she asked. Her voice pleaded with him and no matter what the favour, however impossible, he vowed he would oblige her.

‘Anything,' he said.

‘On your father's life?' she asked, opening her fingers and revealing the inviting folds.

‘On my father's life,' swore Peli.

The girl lifted her arms and beckoned him. Clumsily, Peli shrugged out of his brightly coloured waistcoat, his shirt and breeches, and sank to his knees between her open thighs.

‘I need to go to France,' she said. ‘Soon… on the tide.'

‘I will arrange it,' he said hoarsely. ‘Somehow I will arrange it.'

When he touched the silky smoothness of the outer flesh lips, Peli felt his cock jerk with the delicious innocence of it and yet, within, the hot flesh was slick with sap. This was no innocent! His thumb slid along the arch of her nubbin and back again, drawing the hood to form a little skirt at the root and leaving the tip a polished bead.

She turned her head and Peli followed her gaze. ‘Go away!' he ordered huskily. ‘She is mine.'

The three men were his friends, one the son of Veranti and they, too, were naked, their cocks stiff and upright. Ignoring them, Peli pushed his dusky middle finger between the plump flesh folds, sighing with pleasure as it sank into smooth silkiness such as he had never known in a woman. The moist flesh sucked at his finger, much as a child's mouth would suckle a nipple. She smiled at him and, with his free hand, he stroked his cock. He had reason to be proud of his organ. It was thick and ebony black, much darker than the tawny skin of his face and torso. It throbbed under his touch and he stroked the skin back from the swell of his globe.

‘She is one of Lord Albert's whores,' growled Veranti's son, whose nickname was Mule, for the hugeness of his shaft.

Peli heard the girl gasp as she strained her neck backwards, making her breasts pout upwards as she looked at Mule and at the length that speared up from his groin.

‘Maybe she is,' agreed Peli, lifting the fine gold breast chain and watching how the pink nipples rose to follow his pull. But the girl didn't whimper or complain as many would. She remained stoically silent. ‘But she is beautiful and her quim oozes silken fluids, beckoning me.'

‘My father says Lord Albert's women do not enjoy sex unless it is accompanied by smacking,' said Mule. His cock jerked and throbbed, lifting to his waist.

‘Or whipping with leather,' said another of Peli's friends, whose name was Banu. He had a length of leather, blackened by age and wide as the cock he stroked with it. The leather was supple and thin, and Peli reckoned it to be from the workbench in his caravan where he made simple sandals.

‘Or caning,' said the third, Ricco, who held a birch twig, pale and stripped of its bark.

‘Is this true?' asked Peli of the girl.

She closed her eyes and turned her head away from him. A sudden anger made his face flush under his swarthy skin and his hand lashed out to smack the pale oval of her cheek.

‘Yes,' she said at last, gazing up at him with eyes full of tears.

He watched her cheek redden and could not help but feel sorry for his chastisement. She let her knees fall further open and her sex folds part yet further.

‘I am open and ready for you, master,' she said meekly. ‘So long as you abide by your promise, I will do anything that pleases you.'

‘All of us?' asked Ricco, who was small and wiry, unlike the other young men in the group who were muscled and tall. He knelt at the side of the girl and stroked the birch twig across her breasts. The green eyes turned upon him and Ricco felt a tightening in his groin, a drawing up of his balls. ‘Anything which pleases you, masters,' she said.

He rose to his feet and prodded the swell of a breast with his bare toe. ‘She isn't a witch, is she?' he asked, and the others laughed as he cupped his balls, letting the birch twig fall to the ground.

Peli snatched it up. ‘No,' he said, ‘she isn't a witch.' The twig was drawn across her sex and he switched it in the night air, making a whistling sound before bringing it down upon her belly.

‘You see!' he cried in triumph. ‘Not a sound, but see how the weal appears on her skin. No, Ricco. She isn't a witch.'

‘I am trained,' said the girl, placing her hands behind her head and letting her knees drift flat upon the woodland floor. The young men stared at her fully open flesh pot and watched the weal across her belly darken to the colour of blood. ‘Trained to take pain and to give pleasure… Who will be first?'

Banu prodded her hip with a foot, pushing her over until she lay on her belly, her bottom pouting up into the night. ‘There's a sight that begs for a supple piece of shoe leather if ever I saw one. Open your legs, girl. You've been very open with us so far. Don't spoil it now.'

Keeping her hands at her head, her thighs splayed and her bottom slightly raised, the girl awaited the promised blows.

‘A smack or two with my hands first,' said Mule, holding up palms as wide as dinner plates. ‘I don't need any twigs or straps, I think you'll agree.'

‘Do it!' said Ricco.

Banu smacked his piece of leather across his own palm while Peli softly smacked the birch twig against his muscular thigh.

Mule sank to his knees and smoothed his huge palms over the milk-white hillocks. He allowed a thick finger to invade the crease between the two buttocks, and they all watched in awe as the finger was drawn into the depths of the girl's bottom hole.

‘She does not object,' grunted Mule, ‘and my finger…'

‘The smacking!' reminded Banu.

‘Very tight,' murmured Mule, as he drew his finger out of her bottom. ‘It grips delightfully.' One of his big hands drew back and came down upon the offered buttocks. The smack resounded through the woods and as Mule drew back his hand the three young men watched the smacked flesh quiver under the force of the blow.

‘Oh, again!' said Ricco, his eyes fixed upon the slight but rapid motion of the bottom mounds and the reddening flesh.

‘But with your other hand, Mule,' said Banu, ‘which is fresh and full of power.'

Peli bent over the girl and whispered in her ear. ‘Does it hurt?'

Her head was hidden in the crumpled folds of the servant's gown and her words were muffled. ‘It stings a little, master,' she said.

‘Continue,' said Peli.

The sound of the smack was louder this time, and when Mule drew back his hand they saw the whole bottom glowed scarlet. He was about to administer another blow when Peli stopped him.

‘Let us see if it's as they say,' he said.

Mule frowned, his hand resting on the heated flesh that trembled under his touch. ‘What do you mean?'

Peli crouched again, his cock spearing upward from his groin, the veins pulsing and eager. ‘Allow me to feel within the girl's sex, feel its wetness, the readiness.'

Mule grumbled as he moved back to make way for Peli, who began to stroke at her ankles. He noticed the slight scarring of the skin where the anklets had been. The girl shuddered, but opened her thighs to their fullest extent. His fingertips trailed up the inner sides of her thighs and then his palms cupped her smacked bottom. He felt his cock throb and he wished with all his heart that his friends had not found them, that she was his alone. He felt the tightness of her bottom crease open and tickled her bottom hole with his fingertip. It was tight, but she seemed to take great pleasure in this place. ‘It is true,' he said to the other three. ‘Lord Albert's girls seem to delight in being smacked.' The sticky wetness coated his hand as he used his palm to spread the plump lips. His fingers sank into satin flesh, which drew him in. It was made even more pleasurable by them being shaved to a silken smoothness. He groaned. If only he could just fling himself upon her just as she was and pump his come into her.

‘Let someone else take a turn,' said Banu, his voice full of envy. He bent down and roughly pulled her head back by grasping a handful of hair with one hand. With the other he cupped a breast and flicked the pierced nipple. His face creased in a cruel grin as she winced at such outright cruelty. ‘Let me use my strap on her. That will tell us exactly how much she enjoys pain.'

Reluctantly Peli stepped away from her, but Banu let the strap lie idle upon the ground as he opened the girls pouting sex folds. ‘All women should be shaven,' he grunted, pressing the leaves open with his finger and thumb. The girl wriggled as he teased the inner lips open and kissed each soft wall of the pouch with the touch of a fingertip.

‘We're testing for pain,' reminded Peli coldly. He slid his fingers up and down the ebony shaft spearing up from his groin. He used his thumb to smear the drop of moisture that beaded at his globe. It would slide into her like silk, he thought.

Banu scowled at Peli, but picked up the strap. ‘On the bottom only?' he asked, looking down at the reddened hillocks.

‘Where else?' asked Peli impatiently. His groin felt tight and heavy. He had to have relief.