One Final Night

by Rush, Scarlett

  Chapter Six

  I am given time to recover but my head is swimming. My body has hit a plane of pleasure and refuses to come down. I guess this is what rapture is like. I should be finished but I still want more. I feel greedy and depraved, having entertained almost as many men in barely an hour as I had previously done in my whole life. I should shrink from this, but instead I feel liberated and empowered. I know they have all loved using me and their enthusiasm keeps me needing more. I am not tired yet, and my body wants to go on until it is wracked by pleasure, which is just as well, because the door handle is being squeezed down once more.

  I have by now stopped trying to pick out individual noises, although my instincts tell me that at least two are in the room. There is a creak from the right corner and this sets alarm bells ringing, because that’s where the door the females will use is sited. I think I make out whispers but I cannot be sure. The drapes are already pulled open so I get no warning of my next visitor. The mattress depresses, I feel some bare contact between my open legs, and then a body sinks fully down. It isn’t heavy. I have a smooth crotch against my own, a warm belly upon mine, a pair of gloriously soft breasts squashing against me. Before this I had shirts come between my skin and theirs, allowing me the fantasy of being impersonally used. This is the first naked torso I have had actually touching mine this evening. It is the first naked female I have ever had pressed against me.

  She kisses me. It is soft and sweet and unhurried. In my mind, it is already the Comtesse. Her lips feel perfect. Her fragrance makes me swoon. The crush of her bosom is divine. I love the feel of her hard peaks brushing and pressing my own; it feels so lustful. The breasts are so soft and heavenly – the epitome of the comforting warmth and tenderness that is femininity – yet they are tipped with those naughty little aching points that stretch out and press so wantonly, urging you to attend to them. I love the thought that she has stripped herself bare for me – this beautiful woman of such high esteem; that she has used the darkness to slip naked through the ranks of these oblivious men to find me. The warmth of her body, her soft kiss, the friction of her little bud against mine as she gently moves her hips from side to side; all this is one of the most wonderful feelings I have ever known.

  She uses the backs of her hands on my sides, the fingernails running from my armpits down to my thighs. She kisses my closed eyelids and my forehead. She sucks ever so gently on the tip of my nose and then the tip of my tongue. I barely register the movement at the foot of the bed as weight comes upon it. She kisses the flat of my tongue. I feel so lewd lying there with it stuck out, but she makes it simply erotic. She even uses the tip of her own tongue to tickle my mouth’s wet flesh. Here in the dark it seems like one of the most intimate things I have known. She uses her little nose to push my head to one side. She kisses my neck, right up behind my ear, then the ear itself, then the lobe, which she catches between her teeth. I sigh and squirm, and the friction at our crotches sends another electric tingle flowing right through me. I desperately want to hold her.

  She slides her hands down under my thighs and lifts them – she has obviously taken tips from the boys of the regiment! Her arms hook behind my knees to hold my crotch up tighter to hers. Obviously the light friction is proving too much for her. She begins to rock, quickly shifting her weight from side to side so that our smooth mounds rub together. Still she keeps up her kisses and little bites to my neck. Suddenly, she gasps in my ear. I feel her shiver.

  ‘Oh!’ she breathes. ‘His tongue is right there! He has just licked me from bottom to top!’

  Her voice is barely a whisper, just for my benefit. Even in the quiet of the room it would be inaudible to others. It has the goosebumps spreading across me all over again. I hadn’t been concentrating on the other movements but I remember feeling them, and the image of the soldier scrunched up at the foot of the bed is instant. I don’t see him as an officer, more another filthy private who has no business taking these liberties with a woman of such beauty and grace as the Comtesse.

  ‘He feeds on me! Sucking and drinking and slurping!’

  She sounds far too well-to-do to be talking of such indecent things. Her voice comes just to my ear once more, but I can indeed hear other, lewder noises coming from below. The image changes to the filthy private’s face pushed into the Comtesse from the rear, the tongue greedily pushed right into her to lap up her flow. It strikes me that he must be mere inches from my own entrance by now, and I wonder if the warmth I feel there is from her or from his breath. If she is affronted by his boldness, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she rubs her crotch harder and faster to mine, more like a dirty minx than an aristocrat.

  ‘His hands are on me, squeezing and opening me up,’ she whispers, still just for my benefit. ‘He has pushed his face right in.’

  When she is not speaking she is immediately back to kissing my neck, putting her tongue-tip in my ear, nibbling and sucking the lobe; all to keep me shivering. The sounds of her faltering sighs are so enticing. Any fatigue has been chased away. I feel utterly alive, buzzing with the realisation of my naughtiest dreams, basking in the spellbinding combination of her soft femininity and downright licentiousness. I need to hold her.

  ‘I think he has spat upon me – I can feel the trickle going all the way down. Oh! Now his fingers are sliding into me – two, I think. They are so thick it is hard to tell. They are swirling around inside me. His tongue – it is back. His fingers are still in me but he is using his tongue too. Ah, mon dieu! He is licking me there!’

  I start to shake again. It’s not just the rub of our crotches, but also the dirty images one as apparently respectable and proper as her is able to conjure. This climax is different from the others. It’s less jarringly intense and perhaps all the more wonderful for it. It’s a long, slow fizzle that refuses to die out. I bask in it and let her words carry me on.

  ‘I can feel his hard, fat prick now. He is sliding it up and down me, where his fingers have just been. He is getting it wet and ready. Now he’s moving it up, up where he has just been licking! Oh God, I think he plans to use me there! He feels so big too – I’m not sure I can take it! Will you hold me open for him?’

  Such an act seems too rude to visit upon one such as her, yet all the while this sophisticate, this paragon of etiquette and decency, this Comtesse, is grinding her bare crotch against mine in her unbridled excitement. She clearly wants it. I am worried he might hurt her. I pull my hands free from their loops; with this action goes the last pretence that I am here under sufferance. I reach down and grip her rear. It is full and very soft. I try to recall any prior clues to its size, but then her dress had a built-in frame to accentuate this feature. I ease her apart and almost immediately she tenses and grips my flesh, her nails digging in. She bites down on my earlobe but checks her force, so it’s no more than a sharp nip.

  She remains tense for over a minute, holding her breath. Her grip hurts, but I don’t mind. Eventually she lets out a long sigh, so I assume he has forced his way inside her. ‘He is so big,’ is all she can say.

  She shudders and whimpers in my ear. Perhaps it is Patrick behind her, going against all class principles to fill her. I want to find out. I move my hand across her behind, still ensuring I keep her open. I burrow down to find the base of him. I feel the heat and the hardness of what he is yet to bury inside her. It is big but it is not Patrick, that is for certain. I’m sure it feels massive within that narrower passage, but I cannot speak from experience. My fingers come off him, and I squeeze her tighter and hold her closer to me, to help her relax. I feel him push against her and she squeals and tenses again. When she is able to breathe once more she whispers into my ear, soft enough to ensure no one else will catch it. She says, ‘He is so deep inside me I can feel his balls at my wet cunt.’

  I’m not sure I’ve ever heard any female say such rude words, let alone one of her rank and standing. It is designed to make me shiver, and it does. I hold her tight to me and let the next waves of pleasur
e rock my body. He goes about his business and she grips me and grinds me and keeps the bliss ever there. She is so close it is almost like having him inside me. It is one of the most personal, intimate experiences I will ever have with any other human, and yet I cannot even see her face. I have never spoken to her. I don’t even know who she is, except in my head.

  Weight comes at the side of me; I am unceremoniously prodded in the cheek. I know instantly what is at my face. A gentleman has been waiting his turn and has now lost patience. I am in no mind to disappoint him. She moans above me. I reach up with my lips and connect with the rigid shaft. I work my way along, but find that she has already beaten me to the prize! I can do no more than run my tongue along his length and lick at the lips engulfing his end. The pace and power behind her suddenly increases. I feel the press of him on the backs of my hands as I keep her open against his deep, slapping thrusts. She is forced to let out a loud, open-mouthed moan. I seize the moment and grab the other prize, quickly closing my mouth over its end. She has already drawn a salty tang from his tip.

  There are grunts from the end of the bed and squeals from her, so I know he is unloading into that beautiful behind. She slumps against me and I hold her loosely because my concentration is now on other things. I don’t know if she climbs off willingly or is manhandled out of the way. I had wanted her against me for ever, but right now I can only think of drawing the sighs from the man in my mouth. She slides away into the darkness and out of my life. I have never spoken to her. She wouldn’t know me if she saw me and yet I have had held her bottom open to be ploughed so rudely and I’ve felt the rush of her bliss mixing with my own. She came to me so simply and now she is gone again. I know I will yearn for her on nights when I’m alone. This fractional meeting will have me dreaming of other chances to lie naked with the Comtesse, yet in truth I don’t even know that it was her. I’m beginning to see the folly of infatuation.

  Fortunately I don’t have to dwell on that now. Seconds ago she was all I wanted, but now I am hungry again. The prize has been eased from my mouth and its owner is pulling me up onto my knees. I embrace him and realise he is totally naked. He removes the tatters of my gown. We kiss and his hands go to my rump to hold me to him as we kiss. I adore the tender closeness his nakedness and my new freedom of movement brings. It doesn’t matter that I have never seen this man before in my life. I cling to him and kiss like he was my long-lost lover. He smells more natural than the others, with no fragrance to hide his scent. He is muscular though not too big, with smooth, tight skin. He is younger than some or all of those who have visited me.

  Instincts demand that I must form an image. I run my hands over him to ascertain clues. His hair is longer and fuller than those I remember from the crowd. The fact that he is naked means he is less worried about a quick return to them. He seems fit and athletic, yet he has bowed to seniority and waited his turn. Maybe he is some kind of d’Artagnan figure on the fringes of the regiment, waiting for his star to shine. More likely he is a servant. It doesn’t matter. I have the picture of him in my head now and he is gorgeous.

  He lifts me onto his lap so I sit facing him, slowly sliding down upon his length until it fills me and my bottom sinks against his thighs. He has his hands beneath me to manoeuvre me slowly up and down. I am soaking him but I feel no embarrassment. Everything seems so intimate and compassionate. I gaze into his blue eyes even though I can’t see an inch in front of my face. He lifts me off and lays me flat down across the bed, my chin nearly over the edge before I place my hands under to support it. He lies upon me and slips into me once more. Even now it still feels like the first time that night.

  I smell it before anything else – just a faint salty tang under my nose. I hadn’t known anyone else was there. A large hand goes to my head and then a finger runs down my cheek, almost to check it is me, since my other lover’s face is so close to mine. Then it is pressed at my lips and I open up for it. Immediately I realise the size. My jaw will only just stretch to take him in. Before my fingers reach out to grip him I already know it must be Patrick. My mouth and tongue greet him like an old friend. Before, there had been trepidation about him coming but not now. My fingers stroke up to his belly and beyond to find that he too is naked. Again this nudity is a comfort that has me glowing. It means he has come to make love to me, not to ravish me. Now I have two servants to serve me. I am her ladyship in the hothouse.

  The first of the two goes slow and deep, pressing and grinding to my bottom to move inside me. I do my best to measure my attentions on Patrick, trying not to gobble and slurp, although the temptation is there. At one point I have to rest and my naughty lover grabs an opportunity in the dark and closes his mouth over his comrade. I can feel the bulge of his cheek against my own. I wonder if Patrick even realises who is giving him this treat!

  I am put on my hands and knees. I keep Patrick in my mouth while the other keeps up his deep, gentle rhythm, savouring me. Our movements are fluid, synchronised. The sound of our wet rudeness fills our confines. I feel free, uninhibited, ecstatic. My lover lifts me upright, my back to his chest. He holds my breasts and somehow Patrick knows to bend and suck them for me. Then my lover slips from me and I am manoeuvred onto Patrick as he lies flat, straddling him and sinking down, my excitement still flowing and allowing this huge invasion.

  I shriek in gleeful victory as I stretch open to take him all. I ride him and don’t care that my gasps are coming so audibly now. The climax seems ongoing, but I am just about able to retain the momentum of my movements. I have one hand on his chest and one gripping my other lover’s hardness, using them both to give me purchase. Then something magical happens. I realise I want the other inside me, but not this time in my mouth. I want to have them both the way her ladyship would. Maybe the thought is transferred telepathically, or maybe he gets it from the way I pull gently on him, urging him down. Maybe he just knows this is what I would want.

  I lie flat with my cheek on Patrick’s chest and he strokes my hair. I have a passing thought about that day in the stables, when his shirt was undone at the top showing the hairs on his chest, yet now he is smooth. My other lover grips my behind. I feel his tip at my little place and I suck my breath in. Then he is pressing forward and I am opening. There is a flash, maybe of pain, maybe euphoria. The bliss is now impossible to quantify. The joy of his slow slide while I am already filled is unmatchable. These are new pleasure zones I wasn’t aware of possessing, ones of startling sensitivity. It might be too much for me. Even if he just stays still I may not be able to stop the sweep from blacking me out, but he is already moving back in readiness for another slide forward.

  Patrick holds me tight and together they fuck me. It is so wonderful it has to be a dream – I’m certainly not far from unconsciousness. Before I go under I realise why her ladyship was a slave to this feeling, why she would have sacrificed all for one more time of it. I am vaguely aware of the spurt of hot seed in my rear. I don’t know if Patrick got his just rewards – maybe his companion kindly saw to that himself. I hope so.

  Epilogue

  Sometime in the night, the maid comes for me. She has a fresh gown to ensure I am covered. She takes me by torchlight to my changing room to help dress me. Then I am lead on sluggish legs through the black corridors. He will be sleeping somewhere here, with someone else. I am taken back through the secret passages and out into the night, where the car is ready to take me home.

  I am so exhausted it is hard to think. Doubtless a little part of me has died tonight because I have lost him. I still don’t know how my body will compensate for that addiction, but I cannot think of that now. He has given the potential for so much more to be born. Over the months, he has revealed a part of me I barely knew existed. It is up to me now whether I think hedonism should continue to defeat my notions of decency and respectability. It is up to me now to dare to seek the same pleasures again.

  The lesson he always wanted me to learn was not to be dependent on the expectation of love. I thou
ght I loved him and allowed jealousy to get the better of me, and so now I cannot have him at all. I have no right to be bitter about it. He gave me fair warning. He wanted nothing more than to share pleasures with me, to take pleasure from my own. He knows I always mistake infatuation for love and so he made this obvious tonight. For large parts of the evening, despite everything I thought I felt for him, he wasn’t the one filling my mind. It wasn’t even anyone I knew filling my mind. So in that sense he has liberated me. He knows I don’t love him; I am merely besotted.

  So I must not wallow in self-pity. I must celebrate our time and see last night as its crowning glory. There is no point clinging on, holding out for something we could never have. In the end, what is better, what will one cherish most: one golden summer or a thousand dreary days? I doubt I can give up my belief in true love. I’m not sure I could ever cheat with impunity like he does, share hearts and not feel disloyalty or betrayal. But he has shown me that life can be an equal quest for pleasure as well as love, and so now I will be better able to protect my heart.

  It was beautiful to be the focus of lust for so many, rather than just the one. I know it was wonderful to feel so free, to want to gorge and be plundered and feel those anonymous hot splashes on my skin in the dark. I know if I never have this again I will indeed miss it like the sun. Maybe this one night will be enough. Somehow, though, as greater, more beautiful ladies than me have found out in the past, it is difficult to see how it can possibly be.

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