Fifty Shades of Alice at the Hellfire Club (10 page)

She turned her head one way and took Porthos into her mouth, tonguing his left curve, feeling his large balls tap against her chin and cheek.

Then she turned the other way, swallowing Athos’s bulbous head. She could taste herself on him, and her tongue playing incessantly with his prominent ridge and the spot Jane called the frenulum.

“Both of us, Alice,” Athos said. “At the same time. Just like d’Artagnan and Aramis. A sword fight in the mouth and another in the puss.”

Alice had been told she had a big mouth before, but the only place it seemed to be fully appreciated was in her fantasies. She opened her lips and accepted both cocks, sliding their heads together, watching the men’s expressions as cock rubbed cock, her tongue in the mix.

Aramis moved his hand to her clit, caressing, massaging, out-and-out rubbing.

“Ahhhahhhahhhhahhhhhhha!” Alice exclaimed as ecstasy claimed her. “Fibby!”

Tough to say “ft” with two dicks in your mouth.

She was so full. So wet that she could feel the moisture dripping over her bottom. So hot and stretched and relaxed she felt like she could take a whole football team inside.

Athos threw his head back and moaned. “Time to take it up a notch, Aramis,” he said.

Before Alice could ask what he was referring to, they doubled the speed of their thrusts and…

Their cocks were actually vibrating!

It was the cock rings they wore. Apparently they were battery powered and fitted with powerful stimulators.

As another wave took her, Alice cried out again. “Fibby-ub!”

She came one more time, sucking hard on the two cocks in her mouth, before one of the musketeers had to take a break, and it wasn’t because she asked.

“Alice, you are so hot that I almost came in your mouth,” Porthos said. “Would you mind if I licked your clit while I get back under control?”

Since she still had Athos deep in her throat, Alice answered by opening her thighs a little more.

Porthos added his tongue to the buzz of Aramis’s cock ring, licking in circular motions. Fast. Faster. The sensation was overwhelming, and Alice soared, fell, and soared again.

“You are so sexy, Alice!” Lewis called to her.

Alice came again, her body clenching around two shafts. “Fibby-ooh!” she screamed, not sure if she could take any more.

“Stop, stop,” Aramis said, and all the thrusting and licking and buzzing stopped. “I think Alice needs a breather.”

Athos withdrew from her mouth, the other two men pulled out as well.

“Thank you,” she told Aramis. “I didn’t want it to end, but…”

“It won’t end, milady, unless you want it to.”

“No, no.”

“Very well. Just stretch out and let us take care of you.”

So Alice did, lounging on the bed, the four men massaging her tenderly and offering her sips of champagne, the fragrance of jasmine teasing the air.

“This is amazing,” Alice finally said.

“Do you feel good, milady?” Athos asked.

“I do. In fact, I feel so good, I’d like to try more. But I’m not sure what.”

“Leave that to us.” Athos lounged on the bed and guided Alice on top of him. He kissed her and nibbled her lips, and astoundingly, she felt desire once again yawning inside her. As if reading her mind, he teased her opening with his tip, then eased his length inside. He had just begun to move, rocking her softly, when she felt a warm, slick caress on her bottom.

Porthos kneaded her buttocks, then moved his fingers, stroking between her crack, and then massaging and stretching her deeper. “I’m massaging you with a water-based anal lube, Alice. How does that feel?”

She had to admit, it felt pretty good. “Good. Relaxing, I guess. But hot.”

“Have you ever tried it before?” Porthos asked.

“You mean, in my nether opening?”

“Yes.”

“Once.”

“Did you like it?”

She thought about the first time, in Wonderland. She’d tried all manner of things in that adventure, but the tea party had been something she’d cherish forever. “Yes.”

“Would you like to try it again?” Porthos said, sounding eager.

She hesitated, but only for a second. Porthos was the smallest of the four, and she’d already had two men inside one opening. “If it hurts, will you stop?”

“Immediately, milady.”

“Okay, then I’d like to try it very much.”

“Very well. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re very ready before I ease inside.”

While Porthos continued massaging her, she sat up on Athos. Arching her back, she rode him, her breasts bucking with each thrust. The other two musketeers moved on either side, and she grasped one in each hand and took turns licking. Then they both pushed into her mouth, the salty taste of their pre-cum on her tongue. Athos pinched her nipples, and when he turned on his vibrating cock ring, she crashed into her fifty-third orgasm.

“I think you’re ready now, Alice,” Porthos finally said. “I want to enter you.”

She shivered a little and leaned forward. “Okay.”

He took it slowly, sliding in, stretching her, filling her. He’d kept his promise, making her relaxed and ready before entering, but she still felt an overwhelming pressure, and it wasn’t until her body seized in another orgasm, that she recognized the cause.

“You’re so tight, milady,” Porthos said. “I feel like I’m going to come, and I haven’t even started moving.”

Unable to speak, Alice rocked her hips a little, working the two shafts deeper into her body. Taking the hint, Porthos started to move, slowly at first, gently. Then his thrusts built, and she could feel his soft sack slap against her.

They rocked and she sucked and her juices flowed. With each rock and thrust the friction built and built and another wave of orgasms overtook her, then another, until one was indistinguishable from the next.

“I don’t know what my count is,” she said, after she caught her breath.

“I counted five,” Jane shouted. “Which brings your total to fifty-eight.” Although from her distance and with Lewis’s shaft down her throat, Alice couldn’t guess how she could possibly know.

They tried countless combinations. Alice on her back, Alice on her front, Alice on one lap, Alice doing a back bend. Alice on her head. And all Alice could think about at the end, besides how much fun she’d had and how many orgasms she’d racked up, was how grateful she was that she’d been on the gymnastics team in high school.

And how much she wanted to be home with Lewis so they could try out all they’d learned.

Lewis watched The Four Musketeers come, one by one, all over Alice’s luscious tits. As they rubbed their lengths against her nipples, she giggled, shuddered through yet another orgasm, then giggled again.

“I’m so glad we’ve pleased you, milady,” Athos said, all four sweeping down in a dramatic bow.

Lewis did not come. And for that he was grateful, especially seeing that he had to endure Jane’s mouth in addition to watching his lovely wife soak up all the pleasure she so richly deserved.

Pleasure he hadn’t given her. She was up to sixty-five orgasms.

“She belongs with men like that,” he muttered.

Buttoning up her prim dress, Jane frowned. “Maybe. She certainly enjoyed herself with them, but she married you.”

“Sometimes I wonder why.”

“I’m sure she had her reasons. Have you asked her?”

“I did once. A long time ago.”

“And?”

“She said she loved me.”

“So there’s your answer,” Jane said matter-of-factly, as if that settled it.

But to Lewis that answer seemed less and less adequate the more orgasms Alice experienced at the hands, mouths, cocks, and various devices of those at the Hellfire Club. “Marc Antony said I should fight for her, win her.”

“Maybe he’s right. But don’t fight him. You wouldn’t stand a chance. He does this thing, with poison arrows. You’d be dead in seconds.”

Lewis watched Aramis spurt into Alice’s open mouth. “How about the musketeers?”

“Are you kidding me?” Jane shook her head so hard her breasts jiggled free, and she had to redo the buttons on her dress. “They’d lop off your limbs before you took your first swing.”

“This Blackbeard you spoke of?”

“He’s a pirate. He wouldn’t fight fair. Besides probably killing you with one swipe of his cutlass.”

Lewis was running out of options. “Heathcliff?”

“Do you know how ruthless that man is? Besides, I won’t stand for it. You could say he’s like family to me.”

“Cleopatra?”

“You know her history, right? She’s more dangerous than all the rest combined.”

“Then whom?” Madame Bovary scared him. And he’d grown fond of his teacher, Jane. “It’s hopeless.”

“For you to win her in mortal combat? Yes. It’s also stupid. Alice doesn’t want you to kill for her.”

She was right. Alice was gentle and kind. She would hate bloodshed in her name. “Then how can I possibly win her?”

“Fight in an arena where you excel. What are you good at, Lewis?”

Lewis considered it. “Well, I’m pretty good at cooking omelets. The trick is to use olive oil, and not get the pan too hot.”

“A useful skill, but probably not a way to win a woman’s heart.”

“Back in college I could hacky sack.”

“Oh, yes. That drives the ladies mad.”

“Really?” Lewis entertained a glimmer of hope.

“Of course not, Lewis. Don’t be daft. A bunch of unwashed slackers skipping Civics class to smoke pot and kick around a little leather ball is about the worst way to impress a girl.”

“I can do a pretty good Sean Connery impersonation.” Lewis lowered his voice. “The name is Carroll. Lewis Carroll.”

“That was awful. Very awful.”

“So what, then? Pottery? Belching the alphabet? Making fart sounds with my armpit?”

“How did you ever get laid, let alone married?”

“I’m hopeless!” Lewis moaned. “There’s nothing I can do that will woo Alice.”

“You write, don’t you? Nonsensical yet whimsical children’s stories filled with bad poetry?”

“You could say that. Wait…
bad
?”

“So that’s how you compete for Alice. By being yourself. Doing what you do best.”

“The belching thing?” Lewis burped the letter A.

“Poetry, Lewis. My God, you’re thick. Give me a moment, and I’ll take care of everything.” And with that, Jane left the chamber.

Lewis watched as the younger d’Artagnan came for a second time to Alice’s glee and pondered what he’d just gotten himself into. He supposed writing was better than fighting to the death, at least some days. And while mortal combat with all these dashing figures would no doubt leave him dead, he could probably come up with better poetry. By the time Jane returned, Lewis was downright hopeful.

“I have it all arranged,” Jane announced. “Lewis will now duel to win his wife’s favor.”

“Duel?” echoed Alice. Her expression horrified, she held a hand to her cum-slick breast.

Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and d’Artagnan grinned and stroked their swords. “We’re ready,” they said in unison.

“Not so fast,” Jane said. “It will be a literary duel.”

“A literary duel?” Athos looked stricken.

Jane nodded. “Also known as a poetry slam.”

The musketeers grins faded, and Lewis came up with a smug smile of his own. Now he had them. No matter how much he doubted that he truly deserved sweet, beautiful Alice, he was sure he could write better than a collection of swordsmen, pirates, a Roman general, an Egyptian queen, or an orphan found wandering the moor.

“And he will be dueling,” Jane continued, drawing out the moment “Some of the most famous love poets who ever lived!”

Lewis’s smug smile faded, and he thought to himself,
Aw, shit.

By the time Alice had another bath, her skin now silky soft from cum and massage oil and jasmine-scented soaps, Jane said the dueling arena was ready. Back in her silk robe, Alice followed the governess through the club to a room she’d never seen before. The space itself was the width of a very narrow, dead end hallway. But the walls weren’t walls exactly, they were mirrors.

“One way mirrors,” Jane explained. “The duelers can see you, but you can’t see them.”

“So I stand in the middle of the mirrors and they recite poetry?”

“You don’t just stand, dear. You choose the verse you like. You are the one and only judge.”

“Do I fill out some kind of score sheet?”

Jane gave her a disappointed look and shook her head. “Where’s the fun in a score sheet? This is a book of fantasy erotica, not a newspaper sports page.”

“So what do I do when I like a verse?”

“You show your appreciation, of course.” And as if Jane’s words were magic, eight small holes slid open along the mirrored walls four on each side. A few feet off the ground, the holes were right at the level of…

“They’re glory holes!” exclaimed Alice, remembering the other glory hole room she’d seen on her way to the bath. “This is just a fancy set up for glory holes.”

Jane nodded her approval, and Alice felt the proud flush that came with being a good student.

“The poets will read, and you will be the judge. You can reward them or not, however you like. It’s all up to you. But in the end, there will be one cock standing.”

“Lewis’s!”

“That depends, Alice,” Jane cautioned. “All voices will be disguised. You’ll only have the words and the genitals on which to make your decision.”

“But won’t I recognize my husband’s member?”

“If this story were anchored in realism, you probably would. But you just fucked the four musketeers. So you’ll just have to try them all out.”

“That sounds delightful!” Alice eyed the mirrors. “And they can see me?”

“They can see everything.”

Alice took a moment to imagine all those eyes on her body, watching her do all manner of naughty things, and excitement shivered over her skin. She had always been a shy person, modest, a good girl. But being naked in front of strangers, while terrifying, also made her feel desirable, powerful. “So when I like a poem, I can do whatever I want to them?”