The Queen's Consort (2 page)

The stories became more and more illicit, and one of the nights, Christine, a maid of about the same age, climbed into Arabelle's bed and touched her intimately between her legs. Arabelle had always felt a stirring there, but when Christine probed her pussy with delicate, soft fingers, Arabelle came all at once, moaning into the pillow so that she didn't get caught. This was her introduction to the pleasures of fucking.

Apparently, this behavior was normal between the maids, who prided themselves on their chastity, but would retire to bed and masturbate each other until the muffled pillow cries rose in unison, and they'd end up giggling all at once after they were all contented.

But now, Arabelle was deflowered. She was not at all ashamed of it, despite the disappointment it would be to her father's plans. To be taken by the queen's consort was almost as good of an honor as being taken by the king himself, and the thought of a mysterious lover lurking around the palace made Arabelle's pussy slick once more. She looked at every steward and page boy differently and often studied their hands to see if she could tell which would fit over her breasts just as the stranger's had. When they looked back, her cheeks would color red at being caught and she'd smirk mischievously before slipping away.

As Arabelle rounded the corner to the staff hall, she decided to stop by the upper maids' room to see if her friends were present. As a principal maid now, Arabelle had the privilege of her own room, which often came in handy. She was now nearly eighteen years old and much desired amongst the court. In the early hours of the morning, Arabelle would sometimes hear scratching at the door, mostly from some brave young men who thought they were lucky enough to be let in.

Sometimes, she did let them in.

Luckily, Arabelle's closest girlfriends were now on their break, a gift from the queen who was often taking her time away from the palace in favor of her
Petite Trianon
some distance away. This allowed for the girls to have some days off, which they spent eating sweet meats and playing card games. Arabelle threw the door open and pressed her hands to her breasts, “Oh, ladies, do I have the most delightful story to tell you!”

Arabelle had not yet taken the time to clean herself off. She had stopped by her room to grab a new petticoat to cover her ripped bodice, which she didn't bother to change out of. When she walked to where the girls were gathered and joined them by sitting on the plush pillows they had set on the ground, Arabelle's thighs brushed against each other, still slippery with her own juices and the musky come from the man who had her.

“Oh, do you?” Christine asked and moved beside Arabelle curiously. “You are certainly very flush, Arabelle.” Her observation made the other two women giggle, and they too moved closer to hear of Arabelle's tale.

“Yes, Arabelle, what
did
 you do?” The woman who spoke was named Marie. Marie was only a year older than Arabelle and had very beautiful rosebud lips, which Arabelle often caught herself staring at, wondering what they would feel like between her legs.

“Well, you see…I was just leaving from attending to the queen, and I decided to take the back ways to my room.” Arabelle was careful not to say too much about her queen's affair in the bedchambers that day. While the other girls were well aware of the scandal, they did not know that the consort fully took the queen. They did not know that the curly-haired dauphin, the next heir to the throne, could have very well been sired from the mysterious stranger who stole Arabelle's virginity; though, the legitimacy of the royal children was beginning to be doubted through the growing number of revolutionaries.

“And as I was coming back, there was a man.” Arabelle paused here as the three women leaned forward all together.

“A man, Arabelle?” Marie asked and clasped her hands together in front of her sumptuous breasts, which were unfairly bound within her tight corset. “I heard that there were spies within the walls, trying to find more information about the royal family. The guards have been patrolling the passages to make sure there aren't any trespassers.” Marie leaned forward then and excitedly whispered, “Do you think it was a spy?”

“Or maybe he was a guard!” Annie chirped in a conspiring way.

“Yes. A man. The queen's consort, I do believe, but perhaps he could have been a spy.” Arabelle grinned, and her face lit up with the radiant flush that glowed on her flawless cheeks. She could not help but jump right ahead in the story and nearly spilled all of the details out in one never-ending sentence. “Consort, guard or spy, he pushed me up against the wall, pulled at my dress, spread my legs and had me right there! It was so
glorious,
girls. I've never felt the way that he's made me feel!”

As she spoke the words, she pulled her petticoat back to expose the tear in her dress. One of Arabelle's dark nipples could be seen where the fabric had been torn, and Arabelle moved herself purposely so that it rubbed against the shredded threading. Christine, Marie and the younger of the three, Annie, all gasped in surprise and blushed accordingly at seeing the state of the dress. Arabelle watched as Christine paid extra attention to her hardening nipples, and smiled sweetly to the group of dedicated listeners.

Pushing herself up, Arabelle sat in a proper chair, situating herself slightly above the three girls who milled about at her feet like eager puppies wanting attention. “And he came inside of me. I could feel it all. So warm, so…much. I did not even bother to wash myself. His sticky come still lingers on my thighs. When I move, I think of him back between my legs…” As she spoke, Arabelle put a hand over her skirt where her thigh rested just under. “I do wish he'd have me again. That he'd fill me over and over. I've never had anything like it.”

Christine daringly leaned forward and put her hand under Arabelle's dress, letting it travel up her leg and to the place where both the warmth of Arabelle's pussy and the slick, discharge of the queen's consort could be felt. Arabelle shuddered with the touch, but didn't dare stop Christine from touching her. Instead, the principal maid spread her legs a little farther, inviting her fingers to linger and take more.

Christine pulled her fingers back and held them up to the light. Arabelle and the other two maids looked at the glistening wetness as Christine pressed her fingers to her lips, curiously tasting what was left of Arabelle's union. “He tastes good, that much I know.” Christine mused with a dangerous smile.

“I want to taste it, too!” Marie half whined, then pushed up Arabelle's skirts, burying her face somewhere under the fabric. Arabelle soon felt the maid's gentle tongue slide up the inside of her thigh, following the lines left from the trickling juices. Arabelle's head lolled back against the chair in pleasure and she spread her thighs a little more, pressing her hips down to try and get her cunt to brush the other woman's thick lips, the very lips she fantasized about.

Annie watched the display and hungrily met Arabelle's stare as she brought her head back up. “How did his cock feel? Was it big?” Annie asked and put her hand in between her own legs.

Arabelle looked on as Annie began to rock her hips back and forth, and although she could not see because of Annie's skirts, Arabelle could tell from the rocking that the younger woman had filled herself with her fingers. “It was so big. I could feel it pushing my insides every time he pumped into me. It was just like all of the stories we—” a moan caught in Arabelle's throat as Marie pushed her lips over her clitoris and began to suckle “—we…we were told.”

Christine finished licking her fingers, then crawled over to push Marie's skirts up over her hips, exposing the soft, red downy curls of the woman's mound. Marie had crimson locks that every woman could easily be jealous of. She often wore them pinned up, and tied with golden ribbons, like a Roman empress, despite the current trend of powder coiffures. Christine pushed two fingers inside of Marie's eager cunt, which inspired Marie to suck harder at Arabelle in return.

The heat rose back into Arabelle's cheeks as her third orgasm of the day started to build. She gripped the side of her chair and kept her eyes on Annie, who was furiously rubbing at her pussy now. “That's it, Annie, fuck yourself for me.” Arabelle commanded much like the stranger had commanded her to come. With the queen absent, Arabelle was queen to these girls, who obeyed her every command and desire.

Annie's lips parted and her back arched forward as she came over her own fingers. She moaned loudly, which prompted Arabelle to come soon after. Her pussy's juices gushed into Marie's mouth, and Marie lapped it all up, unwilling to let a drop of it go to waste.

Christine pumped her fingers into Marie with a new urgency, and since Annie saw that no one had bothered to pleasure Christine, she moved forward and wrapped her arms around the woman's waist, eventually bringing her fingers down between Christine's legs. All at once, Marie and Christine came together, and their moans and gasps of pleasure filled the quiet hallway, which was only occupied by the maids in the neighboring room.

The four spent girls all collapsed on the floor, lying head to foot in a lazy circle with each other. Arabelle smiled at the group and rolled over on her back, ready to go back to daydreaming about the stranger's hard cock back inside of her.

“But Arabelle,” Christine warned sumptuously, “if he
is
a spy, you need to mind yourself. It could be very dangerous. You could lose your head!”

“Even so,” Arabelle mused, enticed even more by the danger, “I do hope he comes for me again.”

 

A month passed since Arabelle shared her encounter with the other maids. The weeks had been long and agonizing on the young woman, who found herself looking over her shoulder at every turn, hoping that she could catch a glimpse of the man who took her. There were days when the stranger would visit with the queen, and Arabelle would be reduced to watching behind the curtains as he tickled and caressed Her Majesty.

Arabelle became more jealous now than she was before. When the man would stroke the queen with his powerful fingers, Arabelle would put her fingers down to her skirts and try desperately to remember what it felt like when he touched her. When the queen moaned, Arabelle moaned into her fist as she bit down into her skin to try and keep herself quiet. When the couple would come, always in unison, Arabelle would nearly buckle and fall to the floor as she came, as well. The queen's meeting with the man exhausted Arabelle more than it probably exhausted the queen herself.

She wanted him. She wanted this lover who was exclusive to the queen. She wanted him to have her over and over again while he called her his
“petite mademoiselle”
and spoke to her in the same gruff tones that he used with the queen. But she hadn't an idea of who this man was, and he had not tried to seek Arabelle out since their previous serendipitous encounter.

And yet, when the consort left, Arabelle could swear that he would look directly at her from where she hid behind curtains of sheer, luxurious and overpriced fabrics. She could feel his piercing gaze bore into her aching soul, and her breath would catch in her throat. How did he know she was watching him? How did he know the way between the palace walls? Her hiding places? Before Arabelle could think of any logical answers, he would be gone.

This day, the queen was late coming back to her chambers. She had gotten caught up in politics and nobility, along with her husband. While the stranger paced back and forth in the secret hall behind the queen's bedchambers, Arabelle was being summoned to go to him by a giggling and conspiring Christine and Marie.

“He is back there, I swear it. Is this not the night that she usually has him over for tea and sweets?” Marie asked as she pulled on Arabelle's hands, urging her over to the wardrobes so that they could find something appropriately seductive for her to wear.

“Yes, but,” Arabelle stammered, though she knew not why she was so hesitant. This was what she was longing for. His cock back in her at last! This was what she thought of in the darkest hours of the night when she would rub her clitoris almost raw, coming over and over again!

Christine pulled a rather daring dress over Arabelle's bodice and tied everything in place. Her breasts were pushed up almost inappropriately so, and her skirt was thin, made from luxurious Grabbing silk from the East. With powder and a brand-new, modest wig, Marie carefully coiffed Arabelle's hair up into one of the newest styles. After pinning a lovely hairpin with whole pearls into her hair, the principal maid glittered in the warm glow of the night lanterns.

“Hurry, hurry. We will take you there. And we'll be just around the way…just in case you need us.” Christine winked at the words since Arabelle knew that the two would be watching her every move and listening to her every moan with the consort. Before she could protest, the two took Arabelle by the arms and ushered her into the dark, secret halls of Versailles.

Everything was quiet, save for the distant sounds of a steady pacing. Marie giggled then admonished herself by putting her hands over her mouth. It was too late, though. They had been heard. Arabelle put her arm out, stopping the two behind her, and they all stood still, breathing hard. Perhaps, if they did not move, they would not be found, or at least, that was Arabelle's reasoning. But oh, how she wished to be found!

From around the corner, a shadowy figured appeared. Marie gasped somewhere behind Arabelle, which earned a firm squeeze to the woman's arm. “Is it him?” Christine asked as she peeked around Arabelle's stunning form. Even in the darkness, she glimmered with the dew that clung to the stone walls.

“Ma petite mademoiselle?”
A husky voice echoed through the secret hall and hit Arabelle with the same driving force that he originally took her with. Her knees weakened and she held on to Christine for support.