Suddenly, the face of the general lost its good humor. It became frozen in a mask of fear.
"Impossible. Destiny rules... And you are the road to Destiny."
He got up, turned away and then walked to the side of the room, turned away from her. He puffed at his pipe thoughtfully for a time, and then suddenly spun around, the rage from his face gone, but intent purpose back, much as before.
"Soon you will understand. Soon you will understand. What will you understand? I tell you what you will understand. The very secret of life itself."
"Well, could I have that glass of wine anyway?"
Murat looked thoughtful. He shrugged. "Why not? We have some very good wine here and I could use some myself. That would be nice."
"You will excuse me then." The General got up, bowed punctiliously. "I shall return with refreshment..." He sped to the door, but just before opening it, he turned around and looked at her again. "And of course the next act of your Preparation."
The look on the man's face gave more of a feel of anticipation than the sense of doom rendered upon Janice's first apprehension of the man. But still there was something ominous about that look, that tone.
As soon as Murat had left, and the door closed behind him, Janice tested her bonds. She tugged on them, pulling first the legs and then the arms. The silk knots--fashioned by some sailor, perhaps--tightened with her efforts, biting into her in a most discouraging fashion.
Then, with her fingers, she tried to reach down and tug at the ropes. Although her fingers were long, they could not reach.
She gave out one long sigh and lay back.
Well, she'd tried.
She was just going to have to wait and see what happened.
She stretched languorously. It could have been a worse prison.
And then there came the sound of voices by the door.
And the doorknob turned.
CHAPTER FOUR
The boy in the back seat of the car said, "Why me, Janice?"
"What are you talking about?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean--you're one of the prettiest girls at Thurston High School."
"Thanks!'
"No, let me finish."
"I wonder why you are talking when you've got a pretty girl in the back seat of the car."
"Well, it's much more comfortable than the front seat.
"True, but I mean, we were starting to kiss and then I suggested we moved back here. So, why don't we kiss?"
"I guess. I'm just wondering if I'm doing it the right way."
"Tell you what. You are the best student in our French class, true?"
"I'm not so sure about that. I think you are more fluent than me and you certainly have the accent."
"Let me finish, silly. From now on, when we speak in the back seat--we only speak in French! And that way you will positively know that you are kissing me in just the right way."
"I'm not sure I understand."
"Stop. In French."
He said it in French.
"Bon," she said, and continued to tell him to continue kissing her in French.
He did so.
He was not a terribly good kisser. He was abrupt and didn't seem to know that you were supposed to move your lips. He didn't seem to know how to use his tongue at all. It all didn't really matter. He was just the right build for her, he was cute in a sallow and intense way, with floppy romantic hair, and she made up for it with her own artful tongue and lip work. Pretty soon they were both breathing pretty hard and his hands were going down from her back, playing along her legs, and then slipping up and up... "
"Oh. Sorry," he said, and quite correctly in French.
"That's okay. That's okay," she said.
He rubbed her thigh and her behind and it was very exciting.
"Just say French words now."
"Like what?"
"Like anything! Anything that comes into your head. Do it as you touch me."
"Very well."
His hands went up to her blouse, stroked along her side. It was summer and she wore a thin, translucent blouse, frilly, on top of her jeans.
"Yes, Yes," she said. "Now touch me inside."
It was really so childish, but so delicious in French. As he said random French words, she lost connection with their meaning and just let the music of their sounds sweep through her as his hands reached for the buttons of her blouse. The hands were trembling with excitement, and that excitement made her more excited. Oh, the tactile thrills! She never expected just the rough fumblings of a boy's hands on her blouse would arouse here so much, but now, as all thumbs they did their work, unclasping and peeling back, she took in some air, let it out, faster, faster. He was soon down to flesh, and she could feel the goosebumps.
"You like this?" In French.
"I do!"
"The bra?"
"Yes, yes, the bra!"
He didn't seem to know what to do about the bra, but still he didn't seem so afraid of busting buttons, so he was not so delicate. He didn't even bother to ask what was what in terms of unclasping it, even though she'd taken the time to make sure she wore a bra that was connected in the front and easily unclasped. His fingers just dug in underneath, and the next thing she knew his hand was around her breast.
"You like that?" she asked.
"It's very soft!"
"Yeah. Weird, no?"
"No. Not weird. Exactly right!"
He was enthusiastic, but he just kind of held it as though he was afraid.
"Well, do something."
"Uhmm."
"Look, it's not anything that precious or anything."
"I think it is."
But still, he started moving his hand and the movement made her respond immediately.
She could feel her nipple harden.
"Oooh. Could you do that harder."
"Harder?"
"I mean rougher."
"I don't want to hurt--"
Oh dear. Well, let's take this one step at a time, she thought.
"Don't worry! It's not going to fall off."
"Oh, okay. Sure." He started moving his hand harder, grabbing harder.
"That's right, that's right. Can you feel the nipple?"
"Yes. It's getting harder."
"Pinch it."
He said, in English, "Pinch it?"
"French!"
"I just wanted to make sure."
"Look," she laughed. "Here's my job. If you're doing something I don't like, I promise I'll let you know.
"Okay."
He felt around and managed to get a grip on her protuberant nipple, despite the fact that her breast was starting to get slick with sweat.
"Now," she said, eagerly. "Pinch it.
"I'm glad you know the French. Now I guess I do as well."
He pinched the nipple.
It was just like a mild tug.
"Harder."
He pinched it harder. A mild clamp.
"Please. Harder!"
"I don't want to hurt--"
"I told you, I'll be the judge of that!"
He pinched harder and this time she got something out of it. The pain was delicious! At first a sharp, shocking something, it soon turned into a frizzle of delight, coursing down her spine, straight down to her private parts.
She gasped. "Harder."
He pinched harder. Again the jolt, again the electric shock, again the pleasure.
"That's good, that's good. Now lick it."
She pulled his hand away and quickly unclasped the lacy bra. Her breasts, happy to be free, wiggled out obediently and displayed itself, proud and white, rapidly going red at the top. Her nipple were like a bit of ripe fruit.
Clearly amazed, he let his head drop. His mouth around the breast, his tongue slowly lathered around the aureole. The tingling was sweet. The lick covered the nipple itself. Sweeter.
"Good, good," she said, letting that go on awhile. "Now. Bite it!"
She felt his teeth.
She almost fainted with delight.
Oh man, that was good.
"Enough. Enough of that for now," she said.
"I hope I didn't draw blood."
"You'd taste it."
"Okay. You have really nice breasts."
"Not so nice, really. They are very demanding harlots."
He laughed at the French.
"You are right. This all does sound more... well, more something, in French."
"Now then. I owe you. So let's remove those pants of yours, okay?"
"Really?"
"Certainly. Why not?"
"But... I mean... I"
"Quiet, quiet! I'm a person who pays back."
"Oh please not in kind."
"Don't worry. I won't bite. Unless you want me to!"
They both struggled with his belt buckle, but finally the pants came unsnapped, the zipper came down, and her hand reached in.
She was giggling as she did it. "Oh, I hope it's small! I hope it's very very stubby. I can't wait to see--"
When she brought it out, it was ready to go, that penis. Ready and willing. It was your usual circumcised fellow, bright and perky and pointy and she was happy to see it. However she was disappointed to see that it was just a normal penis. A normal, regular-guy's dick. A nice one too, straight and David-like, the kind the old homo Michelangelo might have carved in a statue for the Pope.
"I can't believe..."
"You can't believe what?"
"I mean you seem so shy and sweet in class. So polite."
"I shall not be shy or sweet to your cock, sir. However, I will be polite. Good day, Mr. Cock. May I attend to your needs? Yes. Why thank you. I do hope you enjoy yourself."
And thereupon, she set herself on her duties.
The thing tasted sweaty and salty at first, which was good. Janice always imagined how a cock would taste, hot and erect, after a battle, and so as she closed her eyes she could almost feel cavalry charge and cannon roar. But then the white darlings innate sweetness came through, and so she just settled into a licking and sucking pattern that had made the boys all hot watching her with a popsicle at lunchtime. Slurp, lick, slurp. The cock was shocked, but it looked very nervous indeed and out of control, so she knew if she didn't want it to explode right now, she had to be careful. She wasn't very good at that yet, but she thought of herself at work with a Twinkie, while on a diet. Yes, now here was the surrounding cake to be nibble out. So fresh and vanilla. And yes, there was just the taste of cream within. All sharp and chemical, and sweet, the way artificial dairy topping was sweet. In other words, you ate it slowly while pretending you were eating something else entirely.
Thus it was with this teenage boy's penis.
"Okay, I think that's enough of that," she said, totally pleased with herself. Other boys hadn't been so happy with the way she did that, but this one seemed to be simply astonished she was doing it at all.
"Do... do you want me to... to fuck you?"
"Oh! You know the French for that?"
"Yes," he said, breathing heavily.
She thought about this for a moment.
"Maybe not tonight."
He seemed relieved.
"But there is something you can do for me. But let me take care of you first, okay?"
"Okay!"
She stroked the hard penis end thoughtfully for a moment, wondering the best way to go about this. On one hand, she suspected that if she just kept on stroking the thing like this, maybe gave it a bit more pressure, maybe put a bit more urgency into it, the biological cannon would simply go off, spurting and spurting stuff. Well, and then what? Why, it would go all over him, all over her, and all over his back seat. Would it smell later? Would his parents guess?
No. Best to be cautious.
She thought of a Twinkie again.
No. Not a Twinkie. It wasn't a Twinkie but a nice moderately sized éclair.
Hmmm.
A chocolate éclair.
She dived down again, taking the work from her fingers.
It wasn't hard. In fact, thinking of éclairs, it was easier.
Yes, a chocolate éclair with chocolate icing and buried deep--Rich, real, whipped cream.
But you had to work through the chocolate, work hard to get at the cream.
You had to suck, suck...
And squeeze.
He groaned. Whether or not he groaned in French didn't seem to matter. Janice knew she was definitely onto something so she kept up the lip action, smacking and sucking, smacking and sucking...
And then, pinching her lips tighter, she pushed down one long stroke. The penis hit the back of her throat, and she started to gag, and she gasped... She took a break, recovering her breath. A pleasant pain! She tried that again and again and again...
It started as just a tremor between her lips and fingers. And then the penis shook and spasmed, and she could feel a spurt of something hit the back of her throat. It was just a spurt at first, but then it grew and the spurt became a flood. Some of it slopped out of her mouth, but she clamped hard and opened up her cheeks, allowing it to build up in her mouth. Astringent, thick fluid. She had stopped sucking for sure, but her fingers were back now coaxing out the last bit of the stuff.
Finally, it was done. She smiled up at him, and with a force of will, she swallowed the entire amount of stuff. It went down smoothly and, for the life of her, now it tasted just like whipped cream from the center of a delightful éclair, fresh bought from a bakery shop.
With a gasp, the owner of the penis slumped against the back seat. He seemed half-conscious but there was a weary smile on his face.
"That was so wrong," he said, managing to stay in his French. "But so right."
"Thank you."
"I still don't understand how I rate?"
"Easy. You will. Now, when you've regained your strength, it's your turn. Or rather my turn."
"Oh man. I won't be able to get my guy up again for a week. You've killed him."
She chuckled. "Oh no. You see, I've been a bad, bad girl."
"I guess you have."
She let him rest while she reached over the seat. Ah yes, there it was. She found her purse. She snapped it open and she pulled out a ruler she'd brought along. Just a twelve incher. She would have preferred trying a yardstick, but she wouldn't have been able to explain why she had it, and besides, it was probably too big for the back seat of the car.
"You're on the ping pong team, right?"
"Yes. I play table tennis."
"You can snap wood with the best of them."
"I know how to use a paddle."
"Well, for right now, this will have to do. Next time maybe we'll bring a paddle."
She handed him the wooden ruler she'd brought.
"I don't understand. You want me to measure something?"
"Man is the measure of all things," she said. "But no, tonight the rule goes toward corrections. Like I said," she began, unbuckling her own belt. "I've been a bad girl. I must be disciplined. "She unbuttoned herself and pulled off her jeans. She was wearing a frilly pink set of silk underwear beneath. She loved the way silk moved up her cracks when she walked.
"Janice, I don't think you've been bad."
"You will do what I say. You owe me." She managed to position herself so that her behind was within easy reach of the swing of a short-armed boy.
"Now what have I been?"
"Janice, this is weird."
"Weirder than me with your cock in my mouth?"
"Well, I did like that. It felt great. But I mean..."
"You feel what you feel, Doctor. Let me feel what I feel."
She wiggled her behind at him insouciantly.
"Do you worst! There's a fly on my behind. Swat!"
He tapped a buttock.
"Okay, I'm ready."
"I did it."
"Oh no. I didn't feel a thing."
He tapped ag
ain and again, each time harder.
"Better and better," she said, "But so far the sin is still sticking. My butt is a ping pong ball and you've got a paddle. Come on, my friend. Win the game from the naughty sophomore."
Whack!
She felt that!
"Oooooooh! Yes, but I'm still full of sin. I'm still a naughty girl."
WHACK.
This one was particularly sweet. It stung, and the sting not only resonated through her, she felt it sing to her brain. The song it sang was pleasure.
"Good one, good one. Now, ten sharp ones--just like that, and we'll see if we can call it even. No, not even. I promise you another date!"
"Deal."
The short guy seemed to be getting into it. He started slowly, but when he got to number 8, he started going faster.
Yes, yes, yes, she thought, holding hard onto the car's armrest so she wouldn't be knocked through the window.
"Oh, oui, oui, oui!" she cried out. "Yes, yes, First Consul. Council me!"
Outside, the cicadas in the Kansas fields chirred.
CHAPTER FIVE
The door opened.
General Murat entered, carrying a tray. Upon this tray was a large, thick bottle and two slender glasses.
He came up to the edge of the bed, bearing this burden and then bowed with mock humility.
"Mademoiselle."
"General."
Closer, she could also see that the tray contained a hunk of bread and a small round of cheese. By the cheese, was a small sharp knife. She took note.
He set the tray he carried by the edge of the bed. "There now. I hope our hospitality here will not be put into question again."
"I shall be the judge of that, General."
"Oh dear. Perhaps I should have included a gag along with a mask on my order for my instruments of love. Your gab can get annoying.
A mask! How interesting.
He lifted the bottle and poured. "Now then. Allow me."
He took the glass and set it to her lips. She used her mouth to yank the glass down firmly, dumping the whole thing into her mouth. She managed to gulp it all down greedily.
Sweet, tart, rank. Lovely.
Not as alcoholic as she was used to, but it worked okay. She felt the fumes drift up into her nostrils and the spirits found their way down deeper into her sinews.
"Your hospitality surely calls upon you to offer you guest another," she said.
The French Affair Boxed Set Page 3
