The Gentlemen's Club: Volume One in the 'Noire' series Read online

  “Very nice my dear,” commented Mademoiselle, her voice both sweet and terrible. “Now turn around and show the Gentlemen your bottom. I’m sure it’s a pretty little rump.”

  The tears now coursing freely, the girl turned slowly and, letting her skirts drop to the front, raised them instead at the back. Her behind was a peach, nicely rounded and with enough flesh that a man might grab hold easily.

  “Bend over a little further Daisy dear and part your legs,” instructed Mademoiselle.

  As she tilted forward, her buttocks stretched apart, so that the pink and white rosette of her anus popped into view – also, the full extent of her outer labia, parting to show a hint of the inner recesses.

  “You are quite delightful,” Mademoiselle assured her, syrup in her voice. “We’re all very pleased with you. Now, stay just as you are. We must conduct a further examination. It may hurt a little, but the discomfort will be worth the end result I assure you and, in truth, it is only a small thing.”

  Mademoiselle Noire gestured forward the African, of whom Daisy, being blindfolded, was quite unaware. The giant’s erection had eased a little over the passing minutes, but what next ensued restored its prowess.

  With surprising gentleness, he clasped the girl’s buttocks with his huge hands, so that she might feel the heat of them upon her. He stroked her soft flesh, moving his hands gradually further down, until he had cupped her sweet cunny. There he rocked his palm against her tender parts, so that her slight sobs were soon silenced. She stood surprisingly still, pushing back against the pressure of that warm hand. The dark Adonis then moved his finger, finding her quick, pressing lightly, massaging, until the girl’s breaths came more rapidly.

  Mademoiselle Noire observed closely, asking Daisy now if she wanted to drop her skirts and leave, forgetting about the whole proposal, or whether she might like to stay a few more minutes. Daisy was silent, but nodded, showing no sign of retreating from the skillful administrations to her rear. The young girl’s virgin cleft was clearly ripe and ready, so that the African’s finger entered without difficulty, inch by inch, caressing back and forth, placing pressure first upwards, then down, twisting inside. Well lubricated, his fingers slid without resistance. Her buttocks began to clench in rhythm with his motion. There was no hint of struggle and her silence was replaced by soft gasping.

  Mademoiselle Noire watched with genuine satisfaction. “There is one more test ahead of you my dear,” she announced, “But it is one which you may perform for us yourself.”

  She now motioned for the African to remove his hand and step back a pace. Daisy’s skirts fell once more and Mademoiselle Noire helped her to stand upright and turn to face those gathered. So light-headed was the maid that she could barely stand without wobbling. A chair was brought so that she might sit. Mademoiselle Noire guided her to the edge, so that her buttocks were perched there, and then lifted the girl’s skirts herself, placing them to either side, and moving the maid’s legs apart, so that she was fully visible: engorged and moist. The sight stirred Lord MacCaulay more than any other that evening.

  Next, Mademoiselle Noire took the girl’s left hand and placed it upon her cunny. She extended Daisy’s index finger and guided it within, placed in parallel with her own. There she located the young maid’s nub and, moving the girl’s finger in a circular motion, through the pressure of hers, she brought Daisy to the final pulsing moments of feminine fulfillment. It was a sight to behold: the previously timid and intimidated chambermaid, legs spread wide and pleasuring herself to such an audience. On completing her task, she sat gasping, milky juices trickling down her thighs. Two of the Gentlemen were inspired to applaud her efforts and the bravery of her endurance, which soon had the whole room similarly signifying their admiration.

  “Gentlemen, our young chambermaid was a blossom yet unfurled; now, she is opening her flower to the garden of pleasure. Daisy has proven herself highly suitable for the labors commensurate with her new position. There is no doubt in my mind that she will come to delight in her bedroom activities: gaining both excitement and a heavy purse into the bargain,” announced Mademoiselle Noire.

  “Daisy will now be sent upstairs, bathed, and placed in a bedroom, ready for her first suitor. Since this is a special moment for any maid, the price should be high. The price of her maidenhood is to be fifteen guineas Gentlemen: a contribution to Daisy’s dowry.”

  The notion held some appeal to MacCaulay who could see what Mademoiselle’s keen eye had penetrated far earlier: that Daisy was a girl of unfulfilled passion, shy and inexperienced, but wonderfully responsive. It took no more than a moment for one of his number to rise and approach the Master of Ceremonies. Daisy’s first lover had presented himself.

  Chapter Three

  Debasement

  For the final performance of the evening, Mademoiselle Noire requested a volunteer. This time, Lord MacCaulay resolved not to dilly dally, immediately standing to offer his services. She laughed at his eagerness but motioned him forward. She requested that he remove his clothing, which he did without embarrassment, being proud of his strong body. His chest, legs, arms and groin were abundant in hair, and his phallus was of good size: such that he did not fear it appearing unworthy beside that of the ebony hulk.

  Once naked, he stood expectantly, wondering if the mysterious Mademoiselle might also now remove some of her garments. However, on hearing his query, she appeared nothing but amused.

  “Tonight, it is I who give the commands sir, not yourself. Some other time, you may have the pleasure of reversing our roles.”

  From a trunk placed to one side, she then brought out an item unfamiliar to MacCaulay: a leg spreader. This she placed between his ankles, fixing them about two feet part, so that he stood not uncomfortably, but rather self-consciously, his genitalia swinging free. Within moments, she had also bound his wrists in front of his body with a sash of velvet. His anticipation caused his penis to leap. With a smile of satisfaction, he hoped that the other Gentlemen felt some envy at him being the first to perform with Mademoiselle Noire.

  However, Lord MacCaulay’s expectations were soon thwarted from their course.

  “Have you ever felt the touch of a man gentle sir,” enquired Mademoiselle.

  Not untruthfully, MacCaulay replied that he had, of course, during his school days but not for some twelve years or so, and that his preference was certainly for women rather than his own sex.

  “I’m sure you speak the truth sir, but perhaps we can reawaken a memory for you. Now you are a man, rather than a mere boy, you may feel differently. Our tastes develop as we step our way through the world.” An undeniable smirk played about her lips.

  The challenge was unmistakable. Lord MacCaulay became at once aware of the close proximity of the black mountain and his body stiffened in alarm. It was not the performance he had in mind and he cursed her cunning in having tricked him so easily. He cursed her, yet felt a surge of arousal at the control she exerted over him; she was a woman to be admired.

  Barely concealed laughter rippled through the assembled Gentlemen, determining him to steel himself for whatever Mademoiselle had in mind. He would not allow his ‘colleagues’ or this wily seductress the pleasure of seeing him discomforted.

  Mademoiselle Noire bade the African step forward. A mighty hand grasped each of MacCaulay’s buttocks, lifting and separating them, so that a draught of cool air moved the hair growing the length of his crack and his anus was exposed; beyond his control, he felt it wink, and he clenched his buttock cheeks involuntarily, inspiring a firmer grip from the giant. He hoped that his face betrayed none of his trepidation.

  Mademoiselle observed him for a moment, then remarked simply, “Very good.”

  “Now, my gentle sir, our ebony friend will place his phallus between your cheeks, there to pleasure himself in whatever motion most satisfies him. He may knock at your door at little, but he will not enter… yet.”

  At this, Lord MacCaulay felt the full length of that black penis
lodge itself between his open cheeks, which were then released from their spread position, so that they fully encompassed the organ behind him, holding it in a tight embrace. The man’s member felt warm and dry, if a little sticky. With his legs spread, MacCaulay’s nether regions were entirely undefended. As the giant began the slow rubbing of his shaft along the crease of the Lord’s buttocks, the latter was also obliged to endure the sensation of the African’s heavy testicles bumping against his own. The African now placed his hands either side of his victim’s pelvis, gripping firmly, so that he had no choice but to stand as he was. In truth, it was not an unpleasant sensation and there was certainly no pain involved. Nevertheless, MacCaulay’s heart beat at a rate unexpectedly rapid and he felt a rush of fear. At any rate, he consoled himself, one way or another, he maintained a fair erection, which he hoped was noted by his seated colleagues.

  Reminding himself to breathe slowly and keep his head, he took solace in the principle by which he aspired to live: the enjoyment of experiences new and unexpected. He could hardly argue that the evening had been a bore and, whatever transpired in the following minutes, he doubted he might describe it later as having been dull.

  “My dear sir,” remarked Mademoiselle Noire, stepping forward to touch his cheek with her silk-gloved hand. “It seems that we need to relax you. I’m sure that I detect a clench to your jaw that betrays some apprehension.”

  Damn the woman, thought MacCaulay.

  Mademoiselle Noire then pulled over a padded stool, which she placed before him, and dropped to her knees, settling herself into a comfortable position. Opening her lips wide, she took MacCaulay’s organ into her mouth, warming it with the velvet flesh therein. In a manner best described as feasting, she began to devour him, plunging her mouth back and forth with vigour and enthusiasm, careful with her teeth, while using the length of her tongue, the softness of her cheeks, and the suction of her lips to caress his member in the most dizzying fashion. Her face buried repeatedly in his hairy jungle, where the pubes must have tickled her ferociously, yet there could be no doubt that her enjoyment of the fellatio matched his own. She grasped the back of his thighs to pull him towards her, deeper into her throat with each lunge.

  While MacCaulay enjoyed the delights of Mademoiselle Noire’s oral ministrations, he continued to endure those of the dark giant behind. The African had begun to grind himself with greater vehemence, so that emanations of viscous pre-ejaculate now trickled down, allowing his phallus to move more easily, lubricated in its confinement.

  MacCaulay was discovering that rear stimulation, albeit from a huge black penis rather than the dainty fingers of a girl, was a heady combination in conjunction with a cock-suck fit for royalty.

  Mademoiselle Noire’s hands moved from the back of his thighs to his balls, cupping them tightly; her mouth encompassed his length back and forth, her tongue working feverishly. His natural inclination was to thrust forward, matching her movements, and, within moments, he felt that his climax might be upon him.

  His hands, though bound, managed to grasp Mademoiselle Noire’s beautiful auburn locks, so carefully arranged on her noble and elegant head. He yanked her by the hair, so that he might see her eyes: witness the expression in them as he came deeply, her mouth wrapped around him, lips plump and red.

  He saw there pure lust: pupils dilated and the glazed submersion of desire – but only for a moment. His presumption brought forth her anger. A spike of malice quickly replaced all else. She retracted her mouth to the head of his organ and bit down upon it, casting away the power of his imminent eruption and replacing it with humiliation and pain.

  She stood then, smoothing her skirt and her hair. “Why, gentle sir,” she reprimanded, her voice steely, and her eyes glinting coldly. “You misunderstand your role. Let me remind you.”

  MacCaulay’s cock remained purple, full-veined and potent before him, a little tender from her attack, but still at full extension. He ground his teeth in frustration. At a nod from Mademoiselle Noire, the black Adonis wrapped one mighty arm around the Lord’s abdomen, drawing him close to his own, and reached around with the other hand, taking the base of the gentleman’s penis in his grip: thumb and forefinger formed a tight circumnavigation of MacCaulay’s girth, while the giant’s remaining fingers brushed against the front of the Lord’s testicles. MacCaulay’s cock was at the mercy of Mademoiselle Noire’s dark creature. To MacCaulay’s shame, the African began a slow massage of the base of his shaft, moving the skin in relentless rhythm, so that MacCaulay realised he would soon be powerless to control his ejaculation at the hands of the savage, before this room of men. MacCaulay’s unwilling arousal was obvious. No matter his finer feelings, his body responded fiercely to the grasp of his ebony assailant. His audience no longer laughed, their gaze fixed upon his member. Some licked their lips and shifted in their seats – others adjusted themselves discreetly.

  With expert co-ordination, the giant resumed his grinding against MacCaulay’s rear, the juices now flowing far more freely, so that his great phallus was able to reach some speed, slapping noisily between the Lord’s cheeks with each upward stroke.

  Another nod from Mademoiselle Noire commanded the African to alter the angle of his thrust, so that his phallus no longer slipped merely between MacCaulay’s cheeks but began pressing more insistently, the bulbous helmet probing the Lord’s anus, seeking entry. At this, MacCaulay attempted to struggle, but the creature’s grip on his member and torso held him firm. His legs he could not move, since they remained pinned awkwardly by the spreader. Despite himself, he was falling dangerously close to the precipice, the semen rising in the sac. He felt the wet penis behind him gain some foothold in its quest. By pushing MacCaulay forward slightly, the African, with determination, penetrated the lord’s anus by a full inch, and then two. The passage of the intrusion was facilitated not by brute strength but by a flood of lubrication from the beast, and MacCaulay found his rear opening in an unexpected fashion to the giant. Soon, the ebony Adonis was pumping his phallus back and forth with some pleasure, grunting with each stroke, and gaining deeper entry with every thrust.

  Meanwhile, the masturbation of MacCaulay’s cock was reaching final pitch: faster now, his member glistening with obvious excitement. As MacCaulay’s ejaculate arched through the air, the dark creature steadied his grip on the base of the Lord’s member and thrust his own impressive phallus deeper, a good six inches within the Lord’s anal passage, where he shot forth his own moist delivery. MacCaulay slumped forward, his knees weak, held up only by the arms of the giant. After some moments, his penis grew limp and that of his assailant also, so that he was left with nothing between his buttocks but a great volume of cum.

  In the silence of the room - for no one spoke - the voice of Madamoiselle Noire rung out. “It seems that our guest was mistaken in his preferences. His pleasure is evident, lying here upon the rug for all to see.”

  MacCaulay lifted his head and shifted upright as best as he was able, too ashamed to meet her eye but wishing at least to appear master of himself.

  She continued, “If it is a path that he chooses to pursue Gentlemen, perhaps you may lend a hand, or whatever else is necessary, to help him in his endeavours. Our noble savage, being prodigious in size and considerate of bearing, bequeathed only half his length to our gentle sir; perhaps, if there is another occasion, our guest might like to try the full sample.”

  At this, the tension in the room was broken, and the Gentlemen guffawed openly, rising to slap one another on the back and make lewd jokes. MacCaulay shrunk back in mortification, desiring now only to cover himself and leave.

  “Feel free to join our eager harem in the adjoining room Gentlemen,” concluded Mademoiselle Noire. “Remember, their desire is beyond that of most women. Their pleasure is to honour yours, fulfilling every caprice, without reservation. To deprive them of your complete dedication would be a disservice. Those who wish to take a lady (or two or three) to the upper rooms may do so. For the rest, we trust t
hat you will enjoy your own performances and give each other encouragement worthy of your efforts, and those of our ladies.”

  She swept then from the room, disappearing beyond the drapes, and the Gentlemen drifted off, turning their backs on the stage, thinking now only of what was to come.

  The African unlocked MacCaulay’s spreaders and untied the velvet cord that bound him, before too leaving. Surprisingly, MacCaulay’s rear passage was less bruised than his pride, although he gathered his clothes with some wincing. Wiping the worst excesses from his body with his handkerchief, he dressed hastily, and left without a word, taking his carriage home and thus to bed.

  Chapter Four

  Thoughts of Revenge

  Unsurprisingly, MacCaulay did not sleep well, racked with memories of humiliation at the hands of the beast and the woman. Returning to the Club was now out of the question and he felt inclined to keep a low profile from all his usual haunts, being unwilling to cross paths with any of his fellows: those who had watched his shame with, first, glee and, then, sexual interest.

  The thought sickened him.