Under a Stern Reign (11 page)

About half an hour later the coachman arrived to find his employer in a snoring, drunken sleep inside, slumped across an ale-soaked table. He had drunk more than six bottles of wine, four mugs of beer and four brandies by that time.

The driver carried him to the coach, and de Tranville slumped in one corner as they rattled homeward, gazing with bloodshot, uncomprehending eyes at the passing countryside. His head began reeling with thoughts of the females that were beginning to complicate his life.

Madame Coubette... she was still attractive, but with the nagging and the jealousies it was clear that she was becoming a problem. It would have to end, but how to do it without too much bitterness?

How tempting Elise was, he considered. She was truly a delicious feast. Her eyes came back to him. He could see them staring, smouldering beneath the fringe of dark hair. They had weighed him up. They thanked him for the punishment delivered, and then asked for more. They saw the craving inside him, the craving he fought to suppress in the name of decency, the craving that manifested itself and was noted by her as a significant bulge in his breeches. How her sultry eyes had gazed at this shameful evidence, her moist lips pouting, silently beckoning him...

If she were to stay with him alone it would be too tempting, he knew. No, something would have to be arranged. He would have to engineer a suitable marriage for her, to remove her as a temptation. But who would be suitable, during such volatile times?

Then his befuddled thoughts weaved their way to Genevieve. How precious a beauty she was, too! Growing lustful he recalled her timid nakedness, so unaware of the exquisiteness of her innocence and loveliness. He remembered her as she undressed, and how hard it had been to resist latching his lips to those rosy nipples on perfect breasts as she coyly loosened her camisole. How fine were those buttocks that quivered before him as he rained his crop down upon them. He had sought to meet her eyes after the beating but she looked at him too fleetingly, shame and pain covering her face and making her eyes tearful. And yet during the beating he had distinctly seen how her hips squirmed. Oh yes, she was so coy, but there was a female of passion beneath.

Strange, though, he considered; he had punished her more than Elise, fully knowing she was almost certainly innocent of any wrong. Could he, perhaps, have stronger feelings for her than he'd ever realised? It must be so...

And it was as he reflected on the lovely Genevieve that the thought suddenly struck him; a marriage between a de Tranville and a de Montvert would be a very fine match! Why had it never occurred to him before? Yes, it was not a bad idea at all.

He was getting on in years, he knew, and for so long now, it seemed, he had been in mourning. His home had become a shrine to the dark sorceress that was Elise's mother. Surely this could not go on forever? Surely, sooner or later, it would be time to pull back the veil of darkness and let the light of summer break into his life again. And the fair girl, why she was as close to the wonder of a bright new day as any girl could be. Yes, the idea was a splendid one!

As the plan took root in the count's tipsy head he began to grow cheerful. Things might not be so bad after all, with a new and beautiful wife. They would still have to go to Portugal as exiles it was true, but surely not forever. And one day he would return, his treasure of a young wife by his side, and then, perhaps, they would have heirs.

He would have to remove Elise from the picture, however. For with her around his cock would never be at peace and could not be trusted to be discreet. Her dark beauty would always shadow him, stirring desires that should be buried. Who could he find as her suitor?

He tried to call to mind the eligible sons of other French nobles he knew. How many were still alive? How many were still in the country? It was impossible to say. But what about the young gentleman who recently dined with them - that dandy, Rodolfo? All right, he was Portuguese. But he was of noble blood. Could a marriage be set between him and Elise? Why not? He would be meeting the young man in a week and soon he would meet his father. Conde de Agora would certainly understand that the wealth and name of the de Tranville's could not be erased by this vicious revolution. The old world order would have to come back sooner or later. So Rodolfo would be marrying into good prospects. They would still have to live in Portugal for some time, but not forever.

The coach drew up at the chateau. The coachman descended to help him again, but the count stepped down unaided. There was even a slight spring in his step. Why hadn't he come up with the marriage ideas before?

What a funny day it had been, he reflected as he entered his home. The morning had been so gloomy, but now he felt good. Perhaps he could tell everyone of his marriage plans now? No, perhaps not, for they would see he was still drunk and not take him seriously. Tomorrow then. But he had cause for celebration now.

The count crossed the hall, sat on the divan in the sitting room and called for a bottle of wine. Elise might moan about her wedding, he pondered, but Rodolfo was a fine young man. Virile too, he didn't wonder, although hopefully not too virile; it wouldn't do if the young stag broke Elise's heart straight away by chasing other girls.

And what of Madame Coubette? He had enjoyed her buxom body and boudoir skills for some long time now. But there was no longer room for her in the picture. She would be hurt, but she was a woman of the world and she would just have to accept life as it was. She was still attractive enough to move on and find someone else with whom to entertain herself.

As the count sipped his wine he soon found himself growing tired, so he stretched out on the divan and fell soundly asleep, a broad, tipsy smile on his face.

 

Madame Coubette padded around the guest bedroom inquisitively. She had never seen it before, for despite having been to the chateau many times there was so much of the place she hadn't seen.

And how strange, she reflected, that she had formed an alliance with Elise, no less. The girl had always bothered her so much, her mere presence and wilful attitudes always filling her with anger. But now things had changed. Now they actually needed each other.

She had followed her intuition, and cleverly conjured a plan that would solve some of her difficulties. She was sure her decrepit husband was not going to live another winter, and when he died, what would he leave her? He had made promises. He had talked of his will, but each time she alluded to the subject he stubbornly refused to let her see it. She had her own savings, but she would need much, much more to be comfortable in the manner to which she was accustomed.

It was very late and the house was silent, so she decided to leave the room and explore what, if her plans worked out well, would be her home in the near future. With a candle in hand she made her way along the darkened landing outside the bedroom, and from the top of the sweeping staircase she could see the hallway and door of the drawing room below. Why, if the door was left a little open one had a perfect view into the room... ah, so that would explain how the little minx Elise knew about her and the count. It was a very good place for spying, she had to admit.

Madame Coubette went softly down the stairs, and quietly pushed open the first door she came to. It was the library, with book-lined walls and a large portrait hanging above the mantelpiece. Next to the fireplace in the shadows she could make out a leather armchair and a writing desk. The painting piqued her curiosity, and with one hand shielding the candle flame, she approached it.

It was a portrait of a dark-haired woman, a striking beauty. She had large dark eyes and a wide, sensual mouth. Madame Coubette immediately thought of Elise... this was clearly her mother.

Looking away from the portrait, her attention was grabbed by an object lying on the desk. She put the candle down and picked it up. It was a riding-crop made from black leather, with a leather loop at the tip. She swiped it through the air a couple of times, appreciating its threatening whistle. Then she smacked it down on the seat of the armchair. It cracked loudly, the sound exciting her. She smiled - if only she'd had the crop with her earlier; it would have been delicious to feel its cool suppleness scorching the pretty bottom of Genevieve when she had the girl in her grasp. As she picked up the candle again there was a noise from outside the quiet room, so she went to investigate.

There was another muted, snuffling sound coming from the sitting room, so she carefully and quietly opened the door, and saw Count de Tranville sprawled in ungainly fashion on one of the ornate divans, a bottle of wine almost empty on the occasional table beside him, an empty glass on its side on the carpet. He was ruddy-faced and looked exhausted, and as Madame Coubette eyed him he snored loudly, smacked his wet lips together a few times, mumbled something, then started breathing heavily and steadily as his drunken sleep deepened.

Then a plan began to formulate in the crafty woman's head. If she were to keep the count from going to Portugal and commit him to marrying her instead, there wasn't much time to lose. Perhaps the state in which he now wallowed was the key - a glorious opportunity presenting itself.

Carefully she crept back up the stairs, in search of Elise. She tapped lightly on the first few bedroom doors, opening them and whispering the girl's name until she found the correct boudoir. She was asleep, her black hair fanned lustrously on her pillows.

‘The count is back,' the woman whispered excitedly, moving into the room and gently shaking the girl's shoulder. ‘Are you awake?'

Elise stirred and sat up with a start, naked under the covers. She stretched and yawned, and Madame Coubette smiled at the girl's sleepy beauty.

‘Ready?' Elise murmured drowsily. ‘Ready for what?'

‘Ready for our arrangement,' Madame Coubette said, and Elise stared blankly at her for a moment, struggling to get her muddled thoughts in any sort of order. ‘Come on, get up,' Madame Coubette urged in hushed tones. ‘Come on, get up, we must act quickly. If you want your desires to be fulfilled come with me now. But remember what we discussed and agreed. I will help you get what you want and in return you must help me.'

Still feeling somewhat confused, Elise allowed the woman to take her hand and ease her out of the comfort of her large bed, the woman eyeing her naked, shapely contours appreciatively.

Elise reached for her discarded nightgown, but the woman stopped her. She looked Elise's voluptuous body up and down, and placed the candle on the dresser. Gently she touched Elise's breasts and stroked her nipples, smiling as she felt them harden responsively.

‘What red-blooded male could say no to you, my dear?' she whispered huskily, moistening her lips. ‘Such beauty should not be covered, it should be flaunted.' With her eyes still on Elise, Madame Coubette picked up the candle again and took her hand.

‘What are you doing?' Elise asked.

‘I'm showing you how to get what you want,' the woman told her. ‘Sometimes directness is the only way. Trust me.'

Guiding the naked beauty out of the room and along the shadowy landing, Madame Coubette paused as she reached the staircase. It was the spot overlooking the drawing room.

‘It's here that you watched us, isn't it?' she said, and Elise nodded honestly. ‘Well, your time has now come. Go to him. He's down in the sitting room.' She patted Elise softly on the bottom, encouraging her to move, and together they crept down the stairs, the woman a few steps behind.

As they crossed the wide hall and slipped into the sitting room, Madame Coubette pulled Elise closer to her. ‘You must kiss him,' she instructed in hushed tones. ‘Kiss him the way you've seen me kiss him. Kiss him as if you were licking honey from a spoon...'

Elise's heart was racing. Was this really happening? Was it possible that she would...?

‘Go on, he's asleep...' the woman urged. ‘Kiss him while he slumbers and doesn't know whether he's dreaming, awake, or drunk.'

Still feeling drowsy herself, and with her head in a spin from the speed of the unexpected events, Elise lowered herself to her knees.

‘Go on...' Madame Coubette whispered again.

Elise gazed at the count uncertainly. She was naked and kneeling right between his splayed legs. She froze, unable to continue.

A light smack resounded against her bottom. ‘Suck him!' Madame Coubette hissed. ‘Remember your part of the bargain! Don't let me down now!'

Elise wasn't sure that she'd actually entered into any bargain, but she brushed back her hair and squeezed even closer to the sleeping count, her heart thudding. There he was, the man who had always seemed so unobtainable. She moved her face closer, watching his heavy chest slowly rising and falling as he breathed.

A second smack fell lightly across her buttocks, and she let the warm smarting sensation seep through her. It felt undeniably good. How humbled she was before her stepfather, and the thought made her pussy pulse. She gazed up at his rugged features, and then at the clearly evident swelling lifting the crotch of his breeches. What - or who - was he dreaming about?

Her hands tingled. There were five buttons straining to keep his breeches decently fastened. She fumbled nervously with the first; terrified by the body breathing heavily before her, terrified he might wake at any moment and be furious and disgusted by what she was doing.