The Tender Days of May (The Belle House Book 1)

by Vlad Kahany

  “Oh?” Walter raised his eyebrows.

  “Yes. They learn to oblige, even against their interests. They learn that having desires and seeking pleasure is not lady-like. So they suppress them, reject their husbands, and turn into spoiled cats that only know how to purr, hiss, or lash out with their claws. So, their partners find release elsewhere. You know, people can do almost all sexual activities on their own. However, they enjoy the feeling of otherness. Of pleasing and being pleased. Of using and being used. Human contact. Intimacy. It’s imperative for survival. So is sex.”

  “That’s a bold statement,” Walter said with a smirk though hypnotized by his cousin’s philosophy.

  “Saint Augustine said, ‘You take away the prostitution, and the lust will overthrow societies.’ You see?” Lord Ashbee smiled. “Men like pleasure. It’s a basic human need. But they also seek potential. There is a difference between a whore and a sexually open woman. We like both. We use whores, dream of libertines, but end up marrying the money or status that whores don’t have and libertines don’t care much about.”

  Just then, his butler Gordon, a man in his fifties, entered the room and announced a visitor. To Lord Ashbee’s surprise, the visitor refused to come in, and he found Krissy waiting for him at the back door. Panting and in a hurry, she shared the piece of information she had collected. After receiving some money from Lord Ashbee and an additional set of instructions, she departed with a big grin and left the man in the state of amazement.

  The mystery girl—a virgin!

  What a rare gem!

  So refined and untouched!

  The idea excited him, and he was still mulling over the news when he walked back into the study.

  “Ray, you look as if you just discovered something that you didn’t know was possible.” Walter, quite tipsy already, smirked, finishing another glass of brandy.

  “My boy, with time, you will get to find out that the greatest pleasure comes not from things, but from those who deliver them. The simplest things can bring disappointment or bliss, depending on the hand that presents them.”

  Both Walter and Charles were lost in that last philosophical thought. They looked with curiosity at Lord Ashbee, who seemed equally lost but in the news from which the thoughts derived.

  CHAPTER 5

  Krissy wasn’t smart, but she was a persuasive hussy. In the next several days, she brought up the conversation about the ladies’ escapades not just once but twice. When May protested, the maid used her strongest argument.

  “But Miss, how would you know what to do when your time comes?”

  She looked at May in such bewilderment that the young woman felt confused for a second.

  “You learn with time. Surely, you don’t spy on people for that.”

  “But the ladies are the finest in their profession,” Krissy retorted. “No shame in that, Miss. Even the queens are educated in the ways of pleasure before the marriage. I don’t see why I should be ashamed of that.” Krissy lifted her chin as if May offended her greatly.

  “But spying on the benefactors? Don’t you think they expect privacy?” May argued.

  “Privacy?!” Krissy looked at her in shock and suddenly broke out in laughter, setting May into even more confusion. “Miss, you haven’t seen the parties where everyone is butt-naked, and they are all around doing things they want, not minding anyone else.”

  May stood in shock. “There are parties like this?” Her mouth hung open.

  “There are all kinda things, Miss!” Krissy giggled. “When Marquis d’Orléans visited from France, he took seven ladies into his room and made them do things to each other and him, and it lasted for two days. Some ladies still talk about how they wished he came to visit again.”

  May could not believe her ears. How could the world like this exist? And not just somewhere but here in London? Sponsored by the finest of English society?

  Krissy’s plan, which wasn’t, in fact, hers, worked quite well. May decided that she would look just once to feed her curiosity, to see how things were done.

  When Krissy ran into her room later that same evening, ushering her, “Quick, Miss, it’s Bonny, she just took Baron Carlile up to her room,” May hesitated and felt a pang of panic and shame but didn’t have time to respond as Krissy already walked back out into the hallway, and she followed.

  “I saw Carlile before,” Krissy whispered to May, leading the way down the dark hall with an oil lamp. “He is quite a gentleman. He pleases Bonny before she takes care of him, and he is… “—Krissy giggled—“You’ll see.”

  May’s heart was pounding as they turned right in the center intersection of the hallway, walked to the end of the wing, and stopped at the end in front of the old wooden door.

  “It’s a fake lock,” Krissy whispered, fumbling with it, then gestured for May to follow her and lit up the hallway, stuffy and dusty, barely four feet wide, with planks and buckets lining the right wall. “Watch your step, Miss,” Krissy whispered as she stopped in front of a small coin-size patch of light that shone through the wall on the left side. “Here.” She set the lamp down on the floor and leaned to look in the peephole at her eye-level.

  May’s heart was beating so fast she thought she could hear it, but what she heard were muffled laughter and voices. When she looked down the darkness, she saw several more patches of light that shone along the wall. The peepholes! Krissy was right! It was a spy room, and suddenly May thought that if she were caught here by one of the ladies, or, god forbid, a client, the scandal could ruin her. The thought terrified her, but now being here and listening to the voices coming from the room, her curiosity overpowered her, and she couldn’t wait to see what happened in the ladies’ rooms.

  “Here, Miss.” Krissy gestured to switch places, and May’s heart jolted in excitement. She leaned toward the small circle of light, and the darkness expanded into a lit-up space of Bonny’s room.

  Bonny, a redhead with the hair the color of fire and freckles all over her face and arms, and Baron Carlile who was a chubby man in his forties, were fumbling, kissing and undressing. Bonny giggled and cooed, and Baron rumbled and made strange noises that of a wild boar.

  Krissy made a shuffling sound in the dark, and May pulled away from the peephole to grab the maid by the hand.

  “Where are you going?” May whispered in alarm.

  “I have to go run the errands,” Krissy whispered back.

  “You can’t leave me here,” May protested.

  “Ssshhhh, but I have to go.”

  “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare leave me here!” May protested in a panicky whisper, and Krissy mouthed “all right” and sat down on the floor propped against the wall looking up curiously at May.

  May leaned towards the peephole again and kept watching.

  The man already had his shirt off, exposing his chubby body, but his movements were quick and greedy as he was kissing Bonny’s neck and chest as she was trying to unclasp her corset. She finally managed to get it off, and Carlile tore the camisole off her shoulders and down to her waist, exposing her breasts. His hands grabbed both of Bonnie’s breasts, squeezed them, his mouth opened wide like that of a gulping fish, and he took one into his mouth, then closed it and sucked on the nipple.

  Bonny giggled and gave out a loud ‘ah’ as her fingers caressed the man’s head, neck, and shoulders.

  Oh, my!

  May held her breath, and her mouth opened in shock as for the first time in her life, she watched two people fondling with each other. She felt petrified at spying but excited at seeing the half-naked woman being pleased by the man.

  Carlile’s lips moved to Bonny’s other breast while he massaged the abandoned nipple with his fingers, then straightened up, dragged the girl to the bed and threw her on it.

  The bed was closer to the peephole, just to the left of it, and now May had an even better view, which stirred the excitement at the bottom of her belly as she kept watching, not realizing that there was much more to come.
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  Carlile said something inaudible, and Bonny, now on the bed, bent her legs at the knees, flung them wide open, and lifted the skirt up to her waist only to expose her bare privates.

  No knickers!

  May wanted to gasp, but the air got stuck in her throat.

  The next moment, Carlile flung himself to his knees, hooked his hands under the girl’s thighs, and his mouth went for the very private part that the girl just exposed.

  May didn’t blush or gasp as the overwhelming shock paralyzed her. Her eyes got wider as she watched the baron lick and lap between Bonnie’s lap as if he was a hungry dog that got a bowl of food. Bonnie propped herself on her elbows and watched him too as he used his mouth and tongue to lick between her legs. His one hand traveled up to her right breast and squeezed it with force. Bonnie pushed her thighs up to press herself tighter against his mouth, and Carlile sucked her off with a loud, sloppy smack sound, and his tongue dove right into it again. Bonnie threw her head back with a low moan. May swallowed hard and felt unusual intense throbbing between her legs.

  Do people do that? She couldn’t believe it but knew her eyes did not betray her as she stared at the young girl splayed like a butterfly and Carlile’s dark head right in the center of it. The man gave Bonny’s clit one last voluptuous kiss, got off his knees, and started hurriedly unbuttoning his pants. Bonnie grinned at him as he pulled out his member. May’s eyes got even bigger, and she strained them so hard to take a better look, that she thought they would pop out. But she didn’t get a chance to see the details as Carlile’s trousers fell to his knees, and his member disappeared inside Bonnie’s private part where his mouth had just been. Bonny moaned again, and May watched in shock the two bodies attached in three different places—Baron’s hips and buttocks that moved violently between the girl’s legs, his hands that squeezed her breasts, and his mouth that swallowed hers. In just a short time, his hips increased the pace, he grunted and finally, panting violently, fell limply on top of the girl.

  On the other side, May pushed off the wall, barely breathing herself. She heard Krissy get up and lift the lamp, lighting the space between them.

  “I think they are done for now.” Krissy grinned mischievously, biting her bottom lip. “They might start again, but I do have to go, Miss. Stay! There’s much more to see!”

  May stared absently at the girl’s eyes glistening with mischief. Still paralyzed by shock, she nevertheless shook her head and followed the maid out of the dark hallway.

  Back in her room, May couldn’t get the scene out of her head. It shocked her, the shamelessness with which the girl opened herself up, the greediness with which Baron ate her private parts. A wolf, no less! Was that what women were supposed to do? Was that how men pleased them? Was that how long the whole ordeal usually lasted? What about the entire nights of love they sang about in plays and novels? Making love till dawn? Was that, in Bonnie’s room, making love?

  May’s head was full of these thoughts as she flung herself on to the bed and lay there, in a dimly lit up room, replaying the scenes she encountered earlier. She felt herself once again aroused as she remembered Bonny’s reddish pubic hair and the pink slit between her legs and the feverishness with which Baron Carlile mouthed and licked it. She felt the throbbing between her legs again, bent them at the knees, lifted the skirt, and slipped her fingers into the split in her knickers. They were soaked, she found out in alarm. But as soon as her fingers touched the parts between her legs, she felt the unstoppable desire. She closed her eyes and kept stroking herself up and down. Her mind brought up the images of Bonnie’s legs wide open and Carlile’s mouth, except in just seconds, Lord Ashbee was in those images, and it was his hand down there on May instead of her own, touching her intimately. Ah! She went faster and faster.

  Lord Ashbee.

  His dark eyes.

  His smile.

  His hand between her legs.

  She gasped, held her breath trying not to moan, felt the flash of pleasure deep inside, and came. Then lay on her bed in the dim silence, clutching the skirt between her legs, full of shock at the pleasure and shame at thinking that it was Lord Ashbee in her imagination that brought it to her.

  CHAPTER 6

  May did not understand the urge and excitement with which Krissy came into her room to reveal to her the latest House gossips and news. As much as May loathed the shameless topics, or tried to persuade herself that she did, she was immensely bored and also curious about the life of harlots. More and more often, she wondered how women of this particular trade handled men and why so many men chose to spend their free time and money on a company of these ladies instead of the wives.

  Krissy was a chatterbox. She was only fourteen but knew more about the specifics of bedroom pleasures than May. At least in theory. Or not.

  “I did it first with the neighbor boy two years ago.”

  “Did what?”

  “Lost my virginity,” Krissy said with importance as if she auctioned it for a high price. “It hurt a bit. Wasn’t much fun. The first time that is.” She leaned on the door holding the bottom hem of the apron in her hands, playing with it. “The second one was Tom Aitken, the local merchant’s son. He is ten years older than me, and he used his mouth, and, oh my, that was the first time I knew why ladies moaned and trashed like a fish out of water!” She bit her bottom lip and looked at May coyly. “Tom Aitken was fun but too big. His member was big”—Krissy widened her eyes for emphasis—“and every time he had me, it hurt more than the first time, and I bled for a day afterward. They say you get used to it. No, Miss! Nuh-huh. Every time, he tore me apart and couldn’t even fit his entire thing in. I felt like he pushed my gizzards all the way to ma’ ribs.”

  “Good God, Krissy!” May rolled her eyes in embarrassment and shook her head.

  “No, Miss. No fun in that. So I got him to use his mouth and hands before he did himself.” Krissy looked knowingly at May as if the lady was supposed to know what she meant. “Then, one time, Sir Richardson got drunk during the party downstairs and caught me in the hallway and wanted me to lift my skirt and show myself and I told him ‘no, I had a different kinda job’, and he got angry and threw coins at me and…”—Krissy lowered her eyes with a smile—“well, I don’t make even that much in a day, so I took the money and did what he said. And he started using his hands on me, poking me here and there, and I quite liked it, and next thing I knew, his pants were down, and he was taking me from behind, ‘xept I didn’t feel so much because his pecker was so small. I’m telling you, Miss, it must’ been this small in its full size”—Krissy showed with her thumb and forefinger the size of no more than an inch and a half.

  May listened to this all with a flush of shame and wonder.

  “But of course, size doesn’t matter, you know,” Krissy continued talking like an expert. “I prefer it smaller. Just thinking of Tom Aitken’s size gives me… Ugh”—she shuddered—“there are many ways to hurt a woman, and spearing her through is the worst. Miss Lucie says she read a famous ladies’ doctor who said that three inches are enough to satisfy a woman, for anything past that point is like stirring an empty pot.”

  “Krissy!” May blushed but couldn’t hold a smile.

  The maid giggled, covering her mouth with the hand. “Swear to God! She said that! And Miss Molly says, if a man has at least one finger, he can please a woman all right.” She giggled again, and May shook her head and shifted in the chair. Her mind was a carousel of images, each one worse than the last. Who knew that the bedroom life was so complicated and filthy, yet so exciting and versatile!

  The back door downstairs swung open with a loud bang. There came a man’s roar and cursing, then a woman’s squeal somewhere inside the house, and the door flew open again.

  “Ah’ma take whatevah’ feel like, you wench!” a man downstairs roared, and all got quiet.

  Krissy dashed to the window, inspected the street below with interest, and turned around.

  “That bugger Will, I suppose.
Martha’s husband. What a bloody drunk!”

  But as quickly, her attention went back to the discussion topic as if there was nothing more Krissy loved to talk about than men and women.

  Krissy told May a story of Count D’Armanie that presented a gift to Mrs. Sharke not long ago. The gift was a statue of Hermes with a gigantic erect penis the size of God himself. D’Armanie thought he was being clever. His companions and the ladies of the House oh-ed and ah-ed.

  Mrs. Sharke cocked an eyebrow and turned to D’Armanie with a polite smile.

  “I do appreciate the gift, dear Count,” she said. “Were Miss Marilyn here, she would admire it greatly, for she is the true connoisseur of large sizes.”

  At that, the gentlemen chuckled, and the ladies giggled.

  “But in this establishment,” she continued, “I would hate for any of my wonderful benefactors to feel inferior. In the Belle House, we do quite the opposite. I will keep this statue in my chambers. And if you find the statue of a God with the smallest phallus, I would be quite delighted to put it on display, for any man entering this house would feel superior to God.”

  “Well, almost everyone,” Eliza corrected with a chuckle, and Mrs. Sharke shot her a spiteful glance and continued.

  “The truth is, the art of pleasure is not always about the private parts.” She gave D’Armanie a knowing smile. “I can assure you that even if one didn’t have a cock, my ladies would find an erogenous zone to bring a man to ecstasy.” She held her gaze on him. Oh, she was a clever woman, and D’Armanie took the bait.