Besotted:
Erotic Journeys Through Time
by Miriam Jewell
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 Miriam Jewell
Published by Strict Publishing International
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Chapter One
Lily and Jeremiah
A young slave is working alone in a field removing large stones and throwing them into a wooden cart. He is hot from the Caribbean sun and pauses to wipe his face with a dry rag he has tucked into his cotton wrap tied around his waist and falling to mid thigh. His back is bare as are his feet and they are both covered in a haze of perspiration and dust. But then he hears whispering and giggling from behind a grove of mahogany trees and realizes he is not alone after all. Those silly girls again, he mutters as a thrill of excitement and fear prickle the silky hair on his neck.
The two sisters from England ran wild on their father’s land either in their bare feet or atop a pair of dapple grays, their long auburn hair snaking around their shoulders as they hacked through the fauna with machetes. They had very fair skin when they first arrived and the young man often saw them in very strange, dark costumes that were typical attire for young women in 1706. But now, tanned and rosy, the girls ran wild and free in thin, cotton cream colored shifts. They must have been close to twenty now, he estimated, but they still acted like young boys, yelling and climbing trees. They had domestic help around them, both native and white, but all attempts to confine the girls were thrown to the wayside, frustrating the help whose jobs were surely scrutinized by their employer, the elderly father of the girls.
Sometimes they would watch him intently while he worked, which unnerved him completely. When they escaped supervision to hide in the wood or field, the young man’s family would trade jobs for him if the girls were seen pacing around him, as they had witnessed the girls’ keen interest in the young male slaves for themselves. He spoke little about this matter to anybody, because the older sister instilled in him a feeling of such sexual desire that he felt weak when she was near. That was too dangerous to even acknowledge, let alone discuss it with anyone, so he tried to bury it deep within. This was hard to do, especially when he saw her several times a week.
One day, a few weeks previously, he was swimming in a nearby pond, a secret oasis where the other workers went to cool off when working under the tropical sun got too hot. He waded in through the waterweeds cautiously, looking out for snakes and other undesirable creatures. Suddenly he heard a loud splash and was stunned to see the head of the older English girl swimming towards him. He backed up and turned toward the bank preparing to scramble up it.
“Wait, you there!” she called.
He paused and looked at her quizzically.
“I’m Lily,” she told him, and when he did not answer, she stood up in the shallows and let the water run down her thin dress, making it cling tightly to her body. The wet dress was completely transparent and he was amazed to see how pink her nipples were; as pink as the wild roses that grew along the edge of the secret pond. Her breasts were very full and they jiggled as she raised her arms and pushed her wet hair off her face. She was standing about six feet away from the desperate man who by this time was expecting someone to come charging in and point an accusing finger at him. But the only sound was his breathing and some crickets chirping from beneath the hibiscus plants. Lily’s dress hovered lightly above her crotch and he could only see a neat thicket of dark hair swirled in a downward pattern.
“What is your name?” she demanded with a look of polite curiosity, but he could only stare stupidly at her ethereal body dripping with pond water. She waded on and passed him while humming to herself. “If you don’t tell me your name, I shall give you one myself!” She smiled wickedly at him and went on her way. His gaze followed her and fell on her glorious fleshy buttocks. She had a deep cleft that seemed to beg to be spread apart and explored. Her cheeks bounced sprightly as she walked through the tall grass, humming a tune to herself.
And now he could feel her nearby, but he continued working as though there was nothing out of the ordinary. The fact that he was alone was worrisome, but he convinced himself that the sisters were up to their usual pranks and would soon tire of taunting him. Maybe, if he was lucky, they would be dragging Alfred around with them, a tall blond Dutch boy who lived on nearby land. Alfred willingly subjected himself to the girls’ torture time and time again. One time they convinced him to swim in the nude with them and kept him distracted as the younger sister ran off with his clothes. He had to walk back to the house covered with a large banana leaf while Lily hooted with laughter.
She must have liked what she saw, the slave mused, because later that day she and Alfred were seen kissing passionately against a mahogany tree. He watched them as they stood, arms and legs entwined, Alfred panting as his tongue plunged into Lily’s mouth again and again.
Then something strange occurred. Anne, the younger girl appeared from the wood and tapped Alfred on the shoulder. “It’s my turn,” she stated, and Lily stepped away while Anne took her position against the tree. Then she undid her dress buttons and pulled the top of it down under her large breasts so they were pointing out and upwards. When the young slave saw this from where he was picking up fallen twigs, he felt an erection come on suddenly and fiercely. He checked around to see if anyone else was a witness, but his uncle and cousin were chopping wood far off in the distance. He would have to head back soon with the kindling, but first he had to see what the lovers were doing. Alfred was on his knees, lovingly caressing Anne’s tan colored nipples with his fingertips while she sighed deeply and closed her eyes. Lily was long gone now, and the slave was very surprised at how these foreigners were in fact so animalistic but still expected to be treated as royalty! He saw now Alfred had his face buried in Anne’s cleavage while his hands massaged her entire breast. He tongued at her nipples and made wet noises that were heard by the watcher in the woods whose own erection was fully engaged by now. It was not safe to watch any more, he told himself, but he was sure that there would be plenty of opportunity to see more displays of passion outdoors.
Remembering that event almost made him hard again, but knowing he was being watched made him feel like a target, so he set about marking measurements for the future sugar canes as if his life depended on it. In a way, it did. Tall and powerfully built, the young man appeared to be of a mixed heritage. His hair was loosely curly and his skin was a light mocha tone. He had very full lips and almond shaped eyes of a deep brown. An aboriginal, he was not the typical African slave like the ones brought over in large cargo ships. Since those slaves often succumbed to being overworked or to disease, there was always work to be found for his tribe’s people at one of the local plantations. Their systems were more accustomed to the land and many spoke and understood English, though they sometimes pretended they did not. His cotton wrap was set low on his hips and covered a solid and muscular backside. His chest muscles were rippling from years of manual labor, a feature not overlooked by the two sisters.
Several feet away stood a small work shed, one of many on the land, and Lily suddenly emerged out of it looking panicked. “ A huge snake got into the shed! Quick, you must kill it!” She was shouting and carrying a shovel that she thrust at him. “Come, I’ll show you.”
They both ran inside, and as he raised the shovel and scanned the area, the door shut behind them and his stomach turned uneasily as he heard the lock on the door click into place. He whirled around to see Lily standing there with her hands on her hips. “I think you have been avoiding us.” She had a bemused expression on her lovely face as she came closer to her panicked prey. “Tell me your name,” she demanded. He knew it was over. She had him, and in reality, she had his life in her hands. “Jeremiah,” he shrugged and looked down at the plank floor. With only one small window for light, it was dank and hot in the shed. Lily opened the window to let in some fresh Caribbean air. Then she turned back to Jeremiah, and with a look of exasperation she bellowed, “For God’s sake man, stop looking at me like I’m a white devil and stop shaking! I don’t care what you’ve heard about us, but as you can see my father is never here, so I’m in charge.” Her eyes bored into his as she delivered her terse scolding. He understood enough English to know what she meant and it did give him a sense of reassurance. Then she said softly, “If I chose to kiss you right now, I can, because nobody would be able stop me.”
“But they would kill me.” His voice was rich and deeply melodic.
“No, they just say that to keep everyone in line.” Her cavalier attitude confused him. But she went on to explain the legal system in the Barbados concerning slaves and their owners, and how the slaves were beginning to gain civil rights, something that was unheard of until now. As she was talking to him, she was looking him up and down and staring at the complicated knot around his waist that held his wrap up. He did not think her information was entirely true, but said nothing more about it.
Now she was close enough to revel in his scent, a spicy tang infused with freshly cut trees filled her delicate nose. She sighed and Jeremiah wondered if she was actually insane. He had heard stories about these foreigners who drank rum and ran around shooting at innocent people and stealing whatever they could lay their hands on. Maybe this woman was one of these people too. He glanced at her ripe pink lips and felt his shaft threatening to grow between their bodies. He thought that was what she wanted, and he would have loved nothing better than to drag her down on the shed floor and taste her all over.
Lily must have sensed the urge in him because she put her hands behind his neck, guided his face close to hers and kissed him firmly on his lips. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and rolled it around while still holding his neck. He had not experienced anything like that before, and he was so taken aback that he was not sure how to respond. He could escape, but she might be angry and have him punished for it. If he responded in turn, she may not like it and accuse him of trying to touch her, and then he would face certain death. It gave Jeremiah little choice but to stand frozen, with fear and lust wrestling inside of him as Lily began to examine him. She ran her hand up his leg to his thigh and squeezed it, feeling the hard muscle under his smooth skin.
“Anne and I have been watching you for quite some time now,” she purred in his ear. “And we could only guess what’s under this wrap. Wait here while I call her in,” she said over her shoulder. He continued to be shocked at the sisters’ outlandish behavior, but he was also very curious to find out what lengths they would go to for their sexual enjoyment. Anne came into the little room and sized him up in the same predatory fashion as Lily had done. Then she came over to him and swiftly undid his wrap and let it fall to the floor, leaving Jeremiah totally naked. They stared at his maleness for some time with an unreadable expression, until Anne broke the silence. “That’s much bigger than Alfred’s.” Lily nodded. “Twice as big, actually, she giggled. Then Anne chuckled and said, “Shall we bring him in show him his competition?” As the women carried on, Jeremiah felt himself becoming hard, but by this time he was beyond trying to control his situation. Lily noticed, and her urge to stroke him was overpowering. She wanted it all; to touch him, feel his body underneath hers, to devour him.
“I’ll see you back at the house,” she told Anne and ushered her out the door. “Call me when it’s my turn”, she sang and Jeremiah was once again hit by a new wave of panic. What could that mean? He hoped nobody else would be coming in to examine him, but at least this crazy woman had locked the door.
She finally touched him, gently at first, then firmly rolled his foreskin around in her fingers. She got on her knees and lifted his heavy shaft up so she could handle his testicles. They were covered in silky dark hair and were heavy as well. Lily pushed his legs apart to let them hang down freely. “I like this,” she told him as she rose to her feet. “I’m happy that you are mine.” She kissed him again and stroked his tousled hair. He felt her arousal and her need for his body, and just for a moment allowed himself to experience her essence. She tasted sweet and earthy, and smelled like violets, clean linen and all things fine. The only thing he could be at that moment was hers, and the release from his otherwise mundane and arduous life was surreal.
Then, the rapturous English woman dragged Jeremiah down to the floor, lips still locked, and climbed on to his muscular body and proceeded to grind her lust-swollen clitoris on his bulging cock. He let his mind and body go into a quiet state of ecstasy while Lily quickly rose to orgasm, her hips driving into his. He was surprised at how strong her body was and how loud she was as she tilted her head back and climaxed on him. Of course, he had the urge to grab her long satin hair that grazed his face and hold it back so he could watch her face as she came. But his hands were at his side the entire time and though he did not come physically, he did share a mutual mental orgasm with Lily. His body felt such pleasure and release, he believed that this crazy woman had used her foreign magic on him and that he was under a spell.
As they lay there together, he felt fear and worry creep back into his mind as reality set in, and he was relieved when Lily smiled lazily at him and said, “Get dressed and look busy out there. My father is coming home from a long voyage this evening.” She stood and smoothed her skirt down. Her eyes, he noticed, were a deep shade of blue, and it fascinated him to see and to be touched by such an unusual yet beautiful looking being. He hoped fervently that the people in his community would not smell her scent on him, or sense what was done to him today and banish him for it. Unlike the whites, the natives were acutely attuned with their kin, especially the old ones, so there was a good chance that someone would have previewed today’s incident in the form of a dream or pattern of how the bones were rolled. If nothing else, they would certainly pick up some warning signals if they knew he was a willing participant and wanted Lily to take him again and again.
The months passed in a haze of clandestine meetings taut with explosive sexual energy for both young lovers. They met in the stable or one of the many outbuildings on the land for a few minutes together, even just to kiss or to give Lily her release by his large brown hand stroking her under her dress. She was dressing more appropriately lately, and even braiding her hair in an effort to be taken more seriously by her father and the foremen. At first nobody took her seriously at all, so she had to retreat and try some new tactics with her dress and her knowledge of sugar plantations, a subject she willingly delved into. Now the hired hands saw her not as an equal but as someone with authority when her father was away, and one to notify when problems arose.
A daring new venture of hers was making arrangements to have her man provide some of his services directly in her home, but this would take some doing as there were the servants’ watchful eyes to consider, and of course Lily’s father. He was seldom home, but when he was, Lily and he would often battle for control. It was only a matter of time before she became a land baroness and a major shareholder in the sugar business, but before that day came, her father was reluctant to take direction from his willful daughter. The domestic help, notorious for gossiping, described to anyone who would listen the fights that ensued between father and daughter. They were afraid of her temper, though Lily was reported to be fair and kind to the hired help. But her aging father seemed cowed by her temper and quite often gave in to her demands, like the time a brandy decanter went whirling past his head when things heated up over a money matter.
Now over the span of about six months and completely surrendered to his mistress, Jeremiah was reassured about his safety. He had seen how Lily was slowly taking over the running of the plantation in her father’s absence. The working men, both white and black, were afraid of her wrath when displeased. She climbed the business and social ladder around the Island, hired and fired, punished and promoted, all with the tenacity of a bulldog. But, oddly, the consensus on the plantation was that she was usually just and fair in her actions.
It was hard to predict her moods by her sexual demands, thought Jeremiah. After a difficult day of deal making with sugar merchants, he had assumed she would be retiring early, but instead she cornered him by the stable and motioned for him to follow. They met up in the tack room located in the back, and as soon as the door was closed Lily pulled up her many skirts and ordered him to touch her. Her thick patch of hair was covered by her white undergarments, so Jeremiah could not actually see her womanhood. He had never seen a woman naked from the waist down before, and he was eager to explore Lily there, if only by touch. She guided his hand to her and pushed his middle finger on her hood and rubbed it up and down. Her eyes closed and her full, soft mouth parted. His hand stopped suddenly when he thought he heard a noise, and they both stopped all motion to listen for an intrusion. Thankfully, all was quiet, but now Lily wanted something more. She sat down on a neatly stacked pile of horse blankets and leaned against the wall. Leather straps from the tack dangled down to her shoulders as she pulled the hairpins out of her tresses and shook her head. “Use your tongue this time,” she whispered and her lover wasted no time in pleasing his mistress. Down on his knees, he parted her labia and finally tasted her with his tongue. He had spent many long nights fantasizing about this moment, and was overcome with pleasure as he sipped her nectar. Cool hands buried in his hair and tightened their grip. “Higher,” she commanded, and when his tongue found her clitoris she rocked against his mouth. He was squeezed between her shapely thighs as she came hard, panting and moaning hoarsely. His tongue dipped down instinctively to taste Lily’s essence once more before her skirts were dropped. She was sweet and smoky, and it caused Jeremiah to leak a small quantity of his own come on the floor.
As they fumbled numbly to pull themselves together, Lily kissed him softly and nuzzled his neck before leaving. “One day it will be your turn,” she promised. But he did not care about sating his own pleasure and he told her that. She seemed to understand that it went beyond the social parameters of mistress/slave, and when the beautiful two were united, giving each other what they deeply desired, it was very powerful indeed. The downside of the affair was the constant threat of being caught, for there was no doubt that it would put Jeremiah in considerable danger.
It had taken some doing to arrange for Jeremiah to work in the villa. It caused tension among the other slaves, because they had their own hierarchy system. The other men suspected that Jeremiah was enjoying special treatment, and they were not happy about his promotion. None of them, however, was in a position to complain about it. Also, his family was embarrassed over the rumors circulating about him and Lily. He was promised to a young girl in the village, but if her father heard about what was going on the plantation, he would not allow a marriage to take place, thus leaving Jeremiah’s family shamed. Jeremiah himself had no particular desire to be married, although he had no problem with it. Children would be an irrelevance for a worker as he was, and he doubted he would be immersed in family life. But, nonetheless, was secretly afraid that it would interfere with his service to Lily. It seemed to him rather unusual for Lily to have refused several proposals from the various bachelors in Barbados and in England, but she did not discuss such matters with him. She made it clear that when Jeremiah did marry, he was still her property and his duty to fulfill her sexually was paramount. Once again, he felt protected by his lover’s dominance and self-confidence.
There was some work to be done in the home and Jeremiah was considered handy enough to lay some wooden flooring in the den. The man originally hired to do this was sent to another part of the house to lay floor, and as soon her young stud walked in the room Lily informed him he would be wearing regular workman’s clothes from that day on and ordered him to remove his wrap. He complied, and when he was bare, she had him work on the floor and watched him intently as he nailed down the strips of wood. She gazed at his broad back, his tight, round behind, and her prize cock that hung down between his thick thighs and swung back and forth as he hammered at the small nails. She loved to watch it grow big from her slightest touches, even though he was not allowed to use it inside her yet.
But today was different. She was elated to see her father leave that morning for a long voyage back to Britain, and she shooed away the domestic help for the rest of the day. Only her sister Anne was home, and Lily found it deliciously amusing to see the look on Jeremiah’s face when Anne appeared and sauntered into the den. He was both aroused and shy at the same time, and Lily immediately felt her mound swell when she witnessed his arousal. Anne watched him and stretched out on a chaise lounge.
“Can I use him now? Alfred is starting to bore me to tears,” Anne complained.
Lily smiled and shook her head.
“Maybe he could join Alfred and me in bed?” Anne brightened at the idea, and Jeremiah felt like hammering his thumb on purpose to stop the blood surge to his groin. By now Lily, was planning on using all of her man when she got the chance. Anne stared at his manhood and said, “I can be in the middle of them and Alfred can see me get taken by another man bigger than him!” She was excited and flustered until Lily warned her it may just scare poor Alfred away. “You’re right. I’ll just have this one alone.”
She walked over to Jeremiah who was still on the floor and behind him, put her slippered foot under his scrotum, and lifted up his sac and let it drop. He stiffened at the unexpected touch and waited until Anne was done prodding him.
“He’s not livestock, you know.” Lily’s voice had an edge to it, and Jeremiah knew her well enough to know she was gearing up for a battle. And apparently Anne recognized this as well, because she held up her hands and said, “I’m assuming he’s private property then?” Lily folded her arms and said coolly, “I suggest you look elsewhere for a spare cock, Anne. Look in the field for your own. We grow them big and plentiful around here.”
That said, Anne left the room quietly, and Lily and Jeremiah were alone again.
Maybe it was her way of staking her claim, or Lily was feeling a rush of power having her forbidden, naked lover in her father’s den, or she could not stop herself wanting all of Jeremiah after months of sampling him. Whatever it was, Lily began to undress herself. As she struggled with her dress buttons, her old habit of ripping it apart threatened to return, but Jeremiah had stood up to help her and caught her hand in mid tear and kissed her on her delicate knuckles. He was always amazed at how soft and fragile she looked on the outside, like the dolls some of the women from the village sold in town. But that was where the similarity ended. Even now, as Jeremiah carefully undid the rest of her tiny buttons with his large work roughened hands, he was not sure if he was over stepping his boundaries as the sexually submissive male by undressing Lily, but finding out was exhilarating in itself.
By the time she was undressed, Jeremiah could see all of her body for the first time, and he marveled at the fine blue veins that mapped parts of her arms and legs. He revisited the deep pink nipples that he first saw at the pond, and lifted up her breasts to run his tongue across her nipples. He watched as they tightened into buds and heard Lily catch her breath. So far she had not slapped his face or shoved him away, which was always a possibility, considering her dominant personality. But she seemed demure as she strolled over to the chaise lounge with her generous buttocks moving up and down, hypnotizing him. He thought it the most erotic sight he had ever seen, and he had a hard on to prove it. She turned and asked him join her.
As soon as he sat down, Lily took him in her mouth and he thought he would faint with pleasure. He had often fantasized of being in a woman’s mouth, but thought it would only happen with the woman he married, if he was lucky. Since he was so big, Lily could only go down on him halfway, so she wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft and gripped it tightly. She moved slowly, to savor him and to make sure she did not send him into an orgasm before she rode his awesome cock. She drew him out of her mouth and glided the slippery knob over her lips. He felt dangerously close to coming and he groaned.
They spoke very little during their encounters, there was no need to. Instead, they responded to each other by their own chemistry and fulfilling each one’s needs as the occasion rose. Sensing his worry, she sharply drew back and said, “Not yet.” Then she stood up and showed him her inner thigh where a little stream of milky fluid had snaked down her smooth skin. He traced his finger down the warm stream and licked it eagerly. She bent down to kiss him and share her taste with his full wet mouth, but Jeremiah pulled her onto his lap and, without asking permission, proceeded to enter her slick opening and move her up and down by her fleshy backside. She could feel his hot breath on her breasts, and the feeling made her clit pound ecstatically on his shaft. His hands moved from behind to front now, and he massaged her mound as she rode his length, calling loudly to God. As she came hard, Jeremiah slipped out of her and burst his ejaculate on her belly. They sighed together as Lily collapsed onto his damp chest.
When it was time for Jeremiah to go, Lily ran her hands through his tousled hair and straightened his work shirt. He looked handsome in it, as she suspected he would. She started him in the den today, and it was heavenly for her, as she knew it would be. Pleasure tingled her skin as she climbed the stairs to Anne’s room. Though she would not share her lover with her, she was looking forward to sharing the details of her first time. She knew Anne wanted to be included in the action with Jeremiah, but this was never to be. He was special to Lily and she was glad she had declined the offers of marriage from her admirers. If she were in a position where a marriage benefited her financial standing and she was able to take the reins in business matters, then she would consider an older suitor. Then it not be such a challenge ensconcing Jeremiah in her new life and she would not have to endure a long, tedious marriage, she thought to herself. The idea of hiding her forbidden love slave from a boorish old man filled Lily with all sorts of schemes, and she could talk to Anne about that as well. It was also time to call back the domestic help; she had worked up a fierce appetite.
CHAPTER 2
Yvette and Henri
A stylishly dressed couple step out of a Rolls Royce on Blvd. du Montparnasse in front of a small boutique hotel. They appear to be slightly drunk as they fumble around for cigarettes, laughing the entire time. Jazz music bleats from inside the hotel as the woman manages to screw a cigarette into a long ivory holder. She looks at her partner with her kohl lined amber eyes. “You’re not going to back out of this are you?” She sounds worried but is smiling brightly at him. Her hand drops to his crotch and she feels around for the leather harness she had strapped around his testicles before they went out.
“I said I’d do anything for you,” he stated simply. And it was true, ever since Henri met Yvette last summer at a mutual friend’s garden party in Nantes, the two had become inseparable, spending holidays at Yvette’s family house in the South of France and cruising through some of the French countryside in Henri’s canal boat.
Part of Henri’s devotion to his beloved Yvette was a result of her patience and discipline throughout his recovery time after coming home from the war. He was not injured physically, but the psychological trauma had rendered him shell shocked. Henri was not the only one to be impacted by the war. Yvette’s husband had been killed in a tank explosion on the battlefield, leaving her a widow at twenty-seven. Yvette was drawn to this enigmatic tortured man. He was charismatic, with wavy blond hair, chiseled features and intense green eyes. Henri, in turn was attracted to Yvette’s gregarious personality and curvy body. When he first saw her talking to a friend at the garden party, he could not help staring at her as she animatedly recounted a story, her coffee brown ringlets shining in the sun.
And now, here she was attaching a leather leash to his harness through the zipper in his trousers and tugging him inside to the party. They made their way past the guests, and kissed hello to friends. Paris was hopping tonight, just as it had been for the past month, celebrating life with one victory party after another. While Yvette was being greeted, Henri stepped into his role, unhooked himself from his leash and headed for the cloakroom. There, he undressed with the other male guests who were present to serve their mate or to be watched by their mate as they served others. Everybody had set their own rules before going into the private parties, and for the elite, the powerful, and the slightly twisted, nothing was too extreme when it came to sex.
Henri was to strip to his black velvet under shorts and serve Yvette in every way possible. He picked up a tray of intricate looking food and a flute of champagne and brought it to her. She nibbled and drank while she visited friends. Henri stood near her and looked around the room. There was around fifty people mingling there, and he observed that some of the men serving were totally nude except for tiny white aprons; aprons that were so short their balls were peeking out the bottom. One handsome young man was wearing a pink frilly apron, perhaps as a punishment, and seemed to be serving several ladies at once. They laughed heartily at his obvious embarrassment, but it was all in good fun. Another was hobbling around in a pair of red pumps, an ironic twist for such a hulking, masculine chap. Henri was not immune to the fact that all the guests were very fashionable and sleek, the ladies dressed in the current dress styles for 1918.
Henri felt very important tonight, and intended to do whatever Yvette wished him to do. She was always coming up with ways to please herself by using Henri as the object of her pleasure, which delighted him immensely. She liked to watch him masturbate, and did so by looking in on him through a window or a crack in the door, making her panties damp as she watched him stroke himself up and down.
Once, when cruising on the canals, Yvette spotted a lovely looking woman strolling along the nearby pathway and told Henri to slow the boat. Oblivious, he obliged, and Yvette stroked him through his linen pants until he was hard, and then ordered him take over. Henri opened his pants and started to masturbate. He did not realize that the woman on the path was walking beside them and was watching his energetic pumping with interest. “Keep going,” Yvette urged from somewhere behind him. He was about to come and looked around for Yvette to see what vantage point she had chosen to watch him, and that was when he saw the woman’s face smiling at him from the bank. She was still walking, unconcerned yet interested as the boat glided down the canal, and Henri felt a great rush of shocked embarrassment flood his body as he came into his hand. Yvette was so turned on by that, she told him to mount her from behind as soon as they reached the next loch. She had him do it with a half erection in full view of the window so that the lockkeeper, a large unshaven man with a cigar stub in his mouth, could watch fleetingly as the lovers floated past.
So it was not unusual for the couple to be at a party like this one. Tonight, it was hosted by Claude Benoit, a notoriously flamboyant gay who had a penchant for young, sultry, pretty boys. Money and morality was no object when it came to designing private parties, and Yvette was an admirer of Claude’s tastes because he did not exclude women or straight couples from his events. In fact, some of the guests were considerably mature, and usually the most elegantly dressed as well. Henri was not surprised to see a striking lady in her sixties with two young men wearing leather chest harnesses and a leash at their backs tied to either side of her chair.
He turned back to Yvette. She had said earlier that she wanted to push the boundaries of their relationship and that he should be ready for a surprise that evening. She was smiling coyly when she said it, and it almost drove Henri mad with anticipation of what she might be up to. He glanced around the room to see if he could see any of her former lovers present, and was both relieved and disappointed when he did not see any. That left a big question mark over his head, wondering if she planned any man on man encounters, something she would tease him about. She had often asked him, “Would you do it to please me?” and he would automatically answer, “Anything for you, cherie”. And he meant it. She liked to test him on it, that was fun for her, but deep down he worried that it could cause a strain on their perfect love affair. Yvette’s husband had been a cold and unloving man, prone to unexpected rages that frightened Yvette. Henri could only guess at what caused these episodes; surely he must have known his wife was sexually experimental? Apparently the husband was possessive, and they had never socialized much as a couple. It has been a sad and repressive time for Yvette, something Henri was determined to never let her repeat. She had put it all behind her now, and had emerged into a confident carefree young woman, eager to experiment with life and love.
She excused herself from her company, rose up, and pulled Henri by his leash along behind her. They crossed the room to a quieter corner where a woman was sitting on a maroon, plush Queening Chair and clearly enjoying herself. Henri could not see who was servicing her from underneath the chair seat and providing the source of pleasure, but they could see a male’s bare legs stretched out from under the chair, and a small loincloth was stretched over the man’s erection very tightly. His partner was a petite, delicate looking lady with a gauzy pink dress that had slid down her shoulders and revealed pert, small breasts that were slightly upturned and topped with sequined nipple caps. Her smoky eyelids were closed as she moved her bottom around over the hole in the chair, and Henri was amazed to see Yvette lean down and chide in her ear, “Save it for me, please. I don’t want you tired out!” The lady’s eyes opened and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, there you are. I was waiting for you, and Stefan came over and, well,” she shrugged and nudged the man under her with her shoe and motioned for him to get up. He rose and shuffled back to the party, looking a bit bereft as she pulled up her dress.
“This is my Henri.” Yvette stepped aside so he could kiss the lady’s hand. “I’m Chantal,” she purred, and slid her arm around Yvette’s waist and asked, “Will he be joining us?”
“Only to watch, of course,” Yvette laughed. “Come to room 211 in fifteen minutes,” she told Henri, and each of the women picked up a flute of champagne from a nearby tray and headed towards the lobby, their arms interlocked.
He had not expected this, though he had fantasized about Yvette and another woman often. He grew extremely excited at what lay ahead for him, and headed back to the party to wait, which was nearly impossible. The guests were getting louder and looser as they drank and ate merrily. They were also getting hornier, as clothing was removed from some of the male servers and couples of all sexes were rubbing up on each other to the mood of the music.
A year ago, to leave his home to eat in a bistro or visit friends at a café did not seem possible for Henri after his ordeal in the war. He was a mess, screaming intermittently in his sleep throughout the night, jumping out of his skin at loud noises, mumbling to himself. His parents were sick with worry and saw that he had proper round the clock care. It helped enormously. He had had a light medication to take the edge off and countless therapy sessions, but the night he met Yvette at the garden party, the first social occasion he had been to since the war ended, he forgot himself for a few hours and remembered what it was like to be the old Henri. He was overjoyed to see old acquaintances and had a few good belly laughs too. He connected with other men who were home on leave or recovering too, and with those men a brief exchange with the eyes was all it took to convey an acknowledgement of empathy; no words were necessary.
Once Henri and Yvette had started sleeping together regularly, Yvette was frequently jerked awake by his night terrors. She tried to pin down his arms as he swung wildly at her, at the same time doing her best to wake him up calmly. It took a lot of patience, but Yvette adored this handsome man of hers and set about turning him around. She used a very unconventional method of getting him to overcome his trauma. Every time his eyes would glaze over and his mouth would quiver, no matter where they were, Yvette would rush over to him, grab him by his balls and give them a twist. “It’s all right, cherie, remember it, all of it,” she would whisper. And he would let his mind relive the horrors he had experienced as she twisted him tighter until he drooped from exhaustion. She had used a similar tactic as a young girl after witnessing a horrible dogfight, pricking her fingers with sewing needles when the scene would not stop playing in her mind. The pain seemed to chase away the mental images, or at least send them to a part of the brain that was capable of handling it.
That was how he came to be at one of Claude’s parties wearing velvet under shorts with the provocative and lovely Yvette, but now it was time to leave the lively scene and join the two women upstairs. As he made his way to room 211, he did not feel the least bit underdressed. He was confident that all the other overnight guests in the hotel would be fellow partiers, but just to heighten his excitement he removed his shorts and continued on naked except for the harness. Yvette always encouraged Henri to push himself to the limit in whatever he did, so being naked in the hotel where anybody might see him was very liberating for him. Apparently, Yvette was liberating herself as well, because the door to her room was wide open and there, in plain view, were the two women kneeling on the middle of the bed kissing passionately while undressed to their diaphanous underwear.
Chantal paused for a sip of champagne, and then dipped her finger in it and wetted Yvette’s nipples. Henri pulled a chair around to the side of the bed to observe more closely, and the women carried on their sensuous affair without taking any notice of his presence. Yvette gave a throaty, “Oh, yes!” as she lay back on the bed and Chantal licked the champagne off. Henri had never seen a sexier sight than these two nymphs making love in front of him, still wearing their high heeled satin slippers.