Forbidden Pleasures (24 page)

“Ever had multiple partners?” Savannah replied. “Of course you haven’t. There are things you should experience, if only once. You know you have the right to refuse or say no. And I’m going to be there too.”

“Where?” Emily asked.

“London, 1870. I’ve created this fancy brothel called the Cock and Cunt. I peopled it with a Madame Rose, pretty whores, and lots of randy gentlemen. Only wealthy gentlemen can afford the Cock and Cunt. We’ll be two of the girls. You’ll be Molly, and I’ll be Polly. We’re cousins, and the men are all mad about us.”

“I suspect I shouldn’t ask,” Emily said, “but what are we wearing?”

“Well, to begin with, we both have long, curly hair down our backs,” Savannah said. “Do you want to change your color? I like my black hair, especially with my fair skin. Actually, I think your coloring is perfect.”

“What are we wearing?” Emily asked again.

“Not a whole lot.” Savannah giggled. “We have black silk stockings that are gartered at the thigh, and colorful short silk robes with sashes.”

“How short?” Emily wanted to know.

“They barely conceal your pussy,” Savannah admitted.

“Sounds very provocative,” Emily noted. “I think I should have a narrower waist and bigger boobs, though. What do you think?”

“Tiny waist and curving hips,” Savannah replied. “Very fashionable, Em! And we’ll be twenty. It’s a perfect age! Then you’ll do it with me?”

“I shouldn’t,” Emily said, “but a couple of hours without Devlin and I find myself getting very horny, Sava. I don’t know what the hell has come over me; I seem to want sex all the time. Sometimes I think I would have been better off to remain a virgin.”

“No, you wouldn’t have!” Savannah said. “Look, sex is fun. And sex on the Channel is not just fun; it’s guilt-free. These fantasies are our secrets. We don’t share them with the men we love, or even most other women. Men have their secret fantasies too. And some not so secret, like old Reg up in London boinking Gillian tonight. She’s such a cow. I don’t know what he sees in her, Emily.”

“The forbidden,” Emily said sagely. “Aaron says my relationship with Devlin is something forbidden.” She sighed. “I never thought to fall in love with him. And if I’m in love with him, should I be cavorting on the Channel with other men?”

“The men we’re going to cavort with are fantasy men. They don’t exist in our reality, Emily. No guilt,” Savannah repeated. “Besides, Devlin hasn’t committed himself to you yet. And God knows, he’s had plenty of other women in his time. He’s your first,” Savannah responded softly. “We’ll have a great deal of fun, I promise you, and you know you can stop it anytime you want. But you won’t want to stop, I’ll wager.”

“If I did, would I spoil your evening?” Emily wanted to know.

Savannah shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t. I understand from the brochure I got that we can go into the Channel together, but we don’t have to return together. Curfew, of course, is the same. We’ll wake up here. We’re the toast of the Cock and Cunt, Miss Molly. The men all adore us, and we’re Madame Rose’s special pets because of it.” She tilted her head to one side. “Are you ready for a wicked adventure?”

Emily laughed.
Why not? she thought. In my reality I would never be unfaithful to Devlin, particularly if we marry. This is probably the only chance I’ll ever get to be a wild child. And having Savannah with me is just perfect. She can always get me to attempt things I might otherwise never try.
“I’m ready,” she said.

Savannah pointed the channel changer at the large plasma-screen television. She clicked the on button. She clicked the proper numeral. And there on the screen an elegant parlor came into view. The couches were upholstered in ruby-red velvet. They matched the heavy curtains covering the windows. The furniture was dark mahogany in the Empire style, with bright brass fittings. Some of the tabletops were of marble. The carpeting on the floor was of thick wool in the Oriental style. Everything was expensive and of the best quality, from the Waterford chandelier hanging from the center of the gilt plaster ring of fruit upon the ceiling to the decanters on a mahogany sideboard to the heavy gilt-framed paintings on the wall, which offered tasteful scenes of gods, goddesses, satyrs, nymphs, and centaurs in various sexual pursuits.

In the middle of a large settee covered in purple-and-turquoise-striped satin sat a large, voluptuous woman in a beautiful bright green silk gown with a low neckline that showed a generous amount of her big snow-white breasts. Emeralds and diamonds sparkled around her neck and at her ears. Her red hair was drawn back in a chignon, which was decorated with creamy camellias. “Where are Miss Molly and Pretty Polly?” the woman said in a slightly rough voice that belied her elegant appearance. She looked about the large parlor, which was filled with several well-dressed gentlemen and a number of scantily clad young women.

Savannah double-clicked the enter button. “Here we are, Madame Rose,” she answered as she and Emily walked into the parlor.

Madame Rose looked both women over critically. “A prettier pair of soiled doves I ain’t never seen,” she said, smiling at them. She had big teeth, and they were faintly yellow with her age, for Madame Rose had seen a good half century. “Come and sit with me, my dears. I expect some of your regulars will be here soon enough tonight, and you’ll be kept as busy as two little bees servicing their randy cocks in your juicy cunnies.” She cackled. She patted the settee where she sat.

“If we sit down the gentlemen will see our pussies,” Savannah simpered. Within the Channel in her guise of Pretty Polly she had lost fifteen years off her face. Her breasts were high and conical in shape beneath her short little robe of black silk. The color flattered her fair, creamy skin.

“They’ll see your pussies soon enough,” said the madam with a chuckle, “and a pretty one it is, my dear. All those thick black curls. I am amazed that you and Miss Molly are related in the first degree of cousinship. You do not favor each other at all in either features or personality.”

“Yet we are both fine whores, are we not?” Savannah said. “And you would not have had Miss Molly had I not convinced her to join me.”

“True, true,” the madam agreed. “And you are both excellent girls, obedient and adventurous, although Miss Molly must often be convinced. How the gentlemen love strapping her plump bottom until she agrees. No one can cry as well as Miss Molly,” the madam said approvingly, and she patted Emily’s round pink knee.

Emily had been silent from the moment they had entered the Channel. Her surroundings were fascinating. The idea of being a whore in a brothel was intriguing. She was wearing a sheer pale lavender silk robe that came just to her thighs. She might as well be naked, she thought, yet the garment suited her current state.

Suddenly a party of boisterous gentlemen entered the parlor. They were dressed in formal evening wear. Flinging their cloaks and hats to a little maid, they looked about them. Spying the two young women with Madame Rose, they made directly for the pair. The leader of the group snatched up Madame Rose’s hands and kissed them. She simpered at him.

“Bertie, you naughty boy, I know what you want, and you shall have it,” she said with a wide smile, showing all her teeth.

“We want both of them, Madame Rose. There are six of us tonight, and we will need these two delicious wenches to keep us well entertained. May we have your special big room, or is it already taken?”

“I told you I knew what you would want.” Madame Rose cackled. “I have saved the big room for your party. You will find champagne, well iced, and lots of toys awaiting you. Miss Molly and Pretty Polly have been eagerly awaiting your arrival,” she assured the group. “Go along now, girls, with your fine gentlemen, and entertain them well,” she ordered Savannah and Emily, pushing them gently from their places at her side.

“Come, sirs,” Savannah said, taking the hands of Lord Albert Bowen and Sir William Cunliffe.

The Honorable Frederick Sinclair slipped an arm about Emily, grinning down at her lecherously. “Come, Miss Molly. I am longing for your kisses.”

“And where would you like those kisses to be, Master Freddie?” Emily heard her alter ego asking. Then she giggled and patted his trouser front.

They reached what was known as the big room, and the gentlemen stripped off their coats and vests. Champagne was poured, and they drank liberally.

When the first bottle had been emptied, Lord St. Albans said, “Open your robes, girls, and display your treasures for us to see.”

The two women obeyed, revealing their generous breasts and well-furred pussies. Emily was rather fascinated by the amount of pubic hair she suddenly had: tight red-blond curls that overflowed from between her thighs. Her breasts were large and round, with very prominent nipples. St. Albans cupped one of her breasts familiarly, tweaking a nipple, and it immediately stiffened for him.

Baron Everhard licked his lips slowly, and then said, “I want to see you two girls standing facing each other and rubbing your titties together.”

Each girl cupped her breasts in her two hands, and then, moving to face each other, began to rub their nipples against one another. Emily’s nipples puckered again, and the men chuckled. She blushed, but Savannah just grinned mischievously at her and, leaning down, kissed Emily’s right nipple.

“Move closer to each other, girls, put your arms around each other, and rub your pussies against each other,” St. Albans told them.

The men watched, two of them growing visibly excited by the little scene before them. Savannah leaned forward and kissed Emily’s lips. Her fingers lost themselves in her companion’s pubic curls, and Emily’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Let’s have a girl fuck,” one of the men suggested. “It’s always a good way to begin a long evening of fucking, frigging, and sucking.”

“Capital idea, Johnnie!” another enthused.

“Wait!” St. Albans said, his eyes glittering with his lust. “Why should we waste time watching the ladies when we could be fucking them ourselves? On your back, my adorable Miss Molly.”

“Oh, sir, I am hardly ready for that fine man cock of yours,” Emily murmured, eyes wide, a single finger in her mouth, making her appear quite innocent.

“Then you shall have Master Dildo and a little bottom birching to warm you up for me, my darling,” St. Albans told her. “Gentlemen, if you two would take Mol’s legs and bring them up and back so I may have perfect access to her cunny.”

“She’ll need to be prepared for the dildo,” Sir William said. “Let me!” And, straddling the daybed, he leaned forward, and, drawing Emily’s nether lips apart, he began to lick the pinkish flesh with a very skilled tongue.

Emily gasped with surprise, for she was being aroused by this strange man, and she wondered if that was right. But the tongue caressing her was most adept, and when he nibbled on her clitoris she could not restrain her squeal of pleasure.

Sir William got up, laughing, and removed himself from between Emily’s legs. “Now, St. Albans, give her a bit of the birch, and she will be quite ready for you.”

Emily yelped as St. Albans brought the birch rod against her plump buttocks once, twice, and a third time. Then, taking the dildo, he carefully inserted it into Emily’s vagina, whipped her three more strokes of the rod, and then began to move the dildo back and forth, slowly at first, and then with increasing rapidity.

Savannah lay down by her friend’s side and murmured into her ear, “Pretend to come or he’ll be at it all night. Just close your eyes and moan. Thrash your head too.”

Emily closed her eyes. The leather dildo was more irritating than exciting. “Oh! Oh! Ohh! Ohhh!” Her strawberry-blond head rolled from side to side. “Ohhhhhhhh!” She stiffened her body and made herself shudder. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

St. Albans pulled the dildo from Emily’s cunt. The bulge in his trousers was enormous. “Give Pol a good treat, boys, while I reward our Miss Molly with what she really desires,” he said, unbuttoning his trousers to release his penis which, to Emily’s eyes seemed even bigger than the nine-inch leather dildo. “Now, darling,” he said, slipping between her thighs, “you have been such a good girl I’m going to let you have a taste of the real thing.” He kissed her lips, his auburn mustache tickling her.

“Oh, sir, you are so very big,” Emily said.

He chuckled indulgently, pleased by her observation. “Let’s see how well you can take a ten-and-a-half-inch cock.” He began to push into her.

Emily wrapped her legs about his torso, and he grunted his approval. He was indeed very big, but to her surprise—or was it delight?—she took him in easily, purring in his ear with pleasure as he began to fuck her lustily. His enthusiastic movements were arousing her, and without another thought she let herself enjoy the pleasure he was giving her, and that she was obviously giving him. She began to whisper in his ear, “Oh, sir, you are a bull, and I your little heifer. Oh, sir, I can feel your big balls slapping against my bottom. What a lover you are, sir! Yes! Yes! Oh, yesssssss!” She nipped at his ear and then, sticking her tongue into it, pushed it back and forth in time with his movements.

St. Albans groaned with delight. The evening had only begun, and it was, he decided, a great success. Miss Molly and Pretty Polly were the finest whores he had ever encountered, and there was going to be so much more to come. His thrusts became more intense, and then as he felt her coming he loosed his juices into her with a yell.

Across the room Savannah was lying upon a chaise while Lord Bowen fucked her enthusiastically and she sucked strongly upon the Honorable Frederick Sinclair’s big cock. Baron Everhard had his penis in Bertie’s asshole, fucking him in time with Bertie’s thrusts into her own pussy. The evening had begun quite well, Savannah observed. She watched as Sir William went over to where St. Albans lay with Emily.

“Let someone else have a go, St. Albans,” he said.

“She needs a restorative, Willie,” St. Albans said. “Mol is a wonderful fuck, but I can see she wants some champagne.”