Madame Duvalier's Boudoir

Chapter One-4

“Don’t c*m until I order you!” he reminded her of his earlier directive.

She remembered but she didn’t like it. Cumming was natural, was expected now that she had all the sensations ordered and in their place, working her to the finish. She held on, uncertain how he’d punish her if she let the passion have her. The heat grew strong. As he slapped his thighs against her ass, she felt as if he were a furnace, blasting hot air on her ass.

She cried, wildly. “Yes, yes, take me, sir!” her exclamations were nearly intelligible, except this one. It repeated over and over until holding off her climax seemed nearly impossible.

“Sir, Master Emil, please may I c*m?”

He f****d her harder.

“Say it again, slut!”

“Sir, Master Emil, please may I c*m!”

“Again!” he shouted.

“Master, may I c*m?”

“Thank me, bitch.”

“Yes, sir…thank you,” she managed though the cumming superseded any words of gratitude. Her body reflected her sentiments, writhing under him, muscles squeezing his well-worked c**k, the man as beyond and uncaring as Renee was now. Grabbing her ass cheeks, he hung on her fervidly while depositing his c*m in thick bursts of pleasure, body arching back and groaning in exclamation.

He was breathless, as was she. But Renee had a modicum of comfort from the padded bar and Emil did not.

Not liking the situation as it was, he pulled her off, allowing the dildo to slip from her bowels and drop with a dull clatter to the floor. The spent soldier pushed her to his feet and made her bow.

“You belong there, slut. You’ll serve me there when I come again. And don’t hesitate to have me next time. I will not be so kind. The thought of punishing your flesh is appealing… especially since I’ve figured out what you have hidden here…” He moved forward with inspiration guiding him, fingering the wooden struts of the ingenious rack, making mental notes of the contraption’s odd configuration, immediately grasping the other possibilities that he’d earlier ignored. He kicked her side. She raised her head. “You won’t forget, will you?”

“No, sir,” she started, “no, sir, Master Emil.”

“I will have you again, my lady fair,” he declared. His lip curled cruelly then broke into a more genuine smile. He nodded knowingly, and without saying more, motioned to the Inspector and exited Madame Duvalier’s chambers. So gallant and so cruel.

***

“We thought you’d disappeared for the night!” the Professor exclaimed when Madame Duvalier swished back into the room, freshly coifed, a reasonable, though somewhat sober smile on her flushed face.

“I’m so sorry to have avoided you so long,” she said. “Has Louisa taken good care of you?”

“As always, Madame,” Mr. Trowbridge replied. “I hope your business was not unpleasant.”

She smiled warmly. “Now, do I look as though my business was unpleasant? A bit difficult, perhaps.” She noted the ache about her ass as she spoke, though that was not what she referred to in her comment. “These are difficult times. Talking of orphans and warring rebels is not a pleasant subject, but in this case a necessary one. The Inspector is working hard to remove all the children from the city. We disagree on a few matters, but not the principle. Our discussion became involved, but I believe we’ve settled things. I do apologize for my thoughtless absence.”

“No apology is necessary, Renee, I only hope you can assist our children in your efforts,” Anna vented emotionally. “I am so scared for them now.”

“Be scared for yourself, my dear. You are no safer than the younger ones.”

“Which is why she’s traveling into Denmark next week,” the Professor announced.

Mr. Trowbridge responded for the room with surprise, “You claim that the city is safe and yet you send your wife away!”

He was too besotted to make sense. The wine had obviously flowed in Renee’s absence. “Precautions, precautions,” his voice fell away and so did the attentions of the other guests. He sunk down on the settee, almost faint.

“Madame,” Mr. Trowbridge moved right in anxiously, “I suppose now would be the best time to handle a rather ticklish matter of my own—the care and keeping of my daughters.”

Renee viewed him kindly, and being forewarned of his request, was not shocked by his proposal.

“Unlike your friend the Professor, I do take the threats to this region seriously. I was hoping that, at least for a few weeks, you could give Isobel and Katarina safe lodging—until I can arrange to get them back to the States. The American State Department is acting slowly and though I’ve applied for their papers, I’m told it could be another few months before the permits are issued.” The gentle man was nearly in tears, his eyes weary, the cheery disposition he displayed all night had disappeared as his talk became more compelling and grim. “No telling what can happen in that time. I desperately need to return to England, but I can’t risk taking my children with me. As dangerous as it may be here, it is a hundred times worse across the channel. I realize that this is a terrible imposition, but I simply have no other choice.” He couldn’t have been more sincere if he had gotten down on his knobby knees and begged.

“By chance and circumstance, some impositions must be ignored, sir,” Madame Duvalier calmed him with her words and the touch of her hand on the back of his palm. For a time, she held his hand in hers and looked into his eyes. “They can stay with me as long as they need to. Understand, though, I cannot ensure their safety, but I will do my damnedest to keep them from danger. What I cannot do is in the hands of a power greater than mine.”

“You are a blessing.”

Renee thought back to her last hour, wondering what the upright Mr. Trowbridge would think of her if he’d seen her most recent abuse—and her incredible s****l response. Would he think his daughters safe in such a household? She almost declined his offer on that basis; however, in light of his great need, it seemed impossible to deny him when she was his only recourse.

“I will do my best to care for them, Mr. Trowbridge. We can only hope that the matters that have caused this strife will soon be resolved.”

He bowed graciously and relieved.

The businessman was so sure of the lady’s answer that he had his daughter’s luggage packed and ready to bring inside the house. Once Madam agreed to his request, he did so quickly. The night that had been so bright and good-humored had become ragged and old, fading, turning grainy like an old photograph. It needed to be set aside for another day, when sagging spirits might be lifted again with a few signs of hope.

***

Late that night, Madame Duvalier met with her housemaid, Louisa and the cook, Jeanne-Marie. “The girls will be staying in rooms on the third floor as far away from my boudoir as possible. It is my hope that they will know nothing of the private visitors to my rooms. I trust that you will keep silent about any activities that are not fit conversation for these young women.”

“Yesum,” Jeanne-Marie answered.

“Of course, Madame,” Louisa followed.

“Hopefully their father will send for them before there is another incident to cover up.”

“I don’t believe they heard anything, ma’am,” Louisa tried offering her assurance.

“Good. We will keep calm and get through this.” Her turquoise eyes lit sharply and in earnest. “Now, I have even more reason to protect what’s mine.”