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The Tonisian Distillation
Part VIII
Lord Gerard de’Boril spent the majority of the day after his
arrival creating a list of potential ‘converts’. He
already had a wide base of support within the Principality, due
to his military skills, but with that popularity came a price. A
large number of the Principality’s elite feared him for the
support he held. While he chose to remain on his lands outside of
Tonis, they were content to do nothing against him. With his
arrival in the city though, certain individuals were bound to act.
De’Boril chuckled as he read Leftenant Lyle’s note at
breakfast. The short missive had arrived at the crack of dawn,
and in a few brief sentences, informed de’Boril of Julia de’Forst’s
‘conversion’, as well as her interest in Marcus Alint.
As it turned out, Alint was a long-time friend of de’Boril’s,
but knowing that he was certain to remain a friend was reassuring.
Now Aria, Marcus’ wife, she might need some attention…
The Prince’s Gala was scheduled for the next day, but de’Boril
had plenty to do in the meantime. A number of the names on his
list, in fact the majority by far, were men. He would need some
special women to snare them, and while his maids were likely up
to it, and more than willing, the logistics of getting them where
they needed to be would be daunting. There was not one but two
formal balls that evening though, and there would be a number of
ladies there that would come in quite handy.
Of course, there were ladies on his list as well, and he would
take great pleasure in seeing to them personally.
The morning passed quickly and soon enough de’Boril was
preparing for the first event. The Halvminster Clan was holding a
Ball in honor of the Prince’s Gala. De’Boril imagined
that most of the Principality’s senior officers would be
there, as honored guests, as well as a large percentage of the
peerage. He had received his own invitation some time ago, though
Theodore Halvminster did not likely believe he would put in an
appearance. The two men disliked each other intensely.
Halvminster owned a huge percentage of the country’s
mercantile fleet, and had substantial influence over the parts
that he didn’t. With Halvminster under his thumb, a sizable
chunk of the opposition he expected to face would no longer be a
factor.
De’Boril found young Nigel between the legs of one of the
local maids. The boy’s seed could not evoke a lasting bond,
but he still had the ‘touch’. The girl, her skirts
thrown over her head, was frantically humping the boy’s cock.
Nigel was gritting his teeth, sweat beading his brow, his need
obvious.
“Come on then, lad, finish her off and go find Antony. I
wish to leave quickly!”
Nigel’s eyes widened, but he didn’t quite pull away
from the girl, who hadn’t even slowed down at the sound of
the master’s voice. “B-be right with y-you, milord!”
the boy gasped, before beginning to pound the girl in earnest.
When he came, he sent the bit of fluff into a series of orgasms.
As she convulsed, he scrambled up, reaching for his breeches,
leaving the girl. She lay in the hay forgotten, breathing
heavily, everything from her waist down as bare as the day she
was born, her skirts still up over her head. Young, de’Boril
thought, eyeing the small mat of damp curls between her legs, but
not too young for the lad. She’d likely become a regular
doxy of his…
In moments, Nigel had found Antony and the two were hitching the
team. Before too much time had passed, Sir Gerard was on his way
to the Halvminster Villa.
As de’Boril stepped from his coach, one of the Halvminster
grooms appeared to take his hat and cloak. He relinquished them
easily before entering the grounds. Within, as with many of the
villas kept by the Noble Families in Tonis, there was a large
court, park-like, with a crushed stone path leading up to the
main entry. Well maintained shrubs were scattered about in a
seemingly random pattern. Between them could be glimpsed a number
of statues and a few massive stone fountains. A number of couples
were wandering the grounds, enjoying the mild weather, making
pithy comments about the Halvminster’s taste in statuary,
flora and, in the case of a number of colorful peacocks, fauna.
Unnoticed by most, house guards patrolled the wall. Sir Gerard
ignored the pageant, noted the guards, and strode directly for
the Main Hall.
As de’Boril entered, the Halvminster Major Domo took one
look at him, rapped his staff against the marble floor, and
announced, “Sir Gerard de’Boril, Marquis of MalBoril,
Commander, Tonisian Armed Forces, Retired.” De’Boril
didn’t spare the man a glance, though he noted a number of
people looking him over as he entered. He rarely put in an
appearance at the various amusements the Tonisian Nobility seemed
to partake in continuously, so his appearance here was something
of note. He hoped their natural curiosity would lure a few of his
targets to him without too much fuss.
Making his way down the shallow marble staircase, Gerard nodded
to those that acknowledged his presence. Most he knew, some he
did not, but all were minor players in the game he’d decided
to enter. He felt as though he were a shark amid a school of
unwary tuna, carefully choosing his next meal.
“My Lord.”
De’Boril turned. Leftenant Lyle stood dressed in formal kit,
complete with sword, looking quite dashing and drawing a number
of glances from the nearby ladies. He stood almost at attention.
“Good to see you Lyle.” De’Boril grinned. “I
presume your lady is about somewhere?”
Friedrich returned the grin. “She’s due to arrive
shortly. I’m sure she’ll be even more stunning than
usual.” Both men laughed.
“Excuse me, gentlemen, but a dance is about to begin, and I
feel sure, Sir de’Boril, that you are quite capable on the
floor.”
The two men turned to regard the lady that had approached them.
Lady Sasha de’Cort, Theodore Halvminster’s sister,
regarded the two with a slightly amused expression. The lady’s
husband had died of illness the year before, leaving the de’Cort
holdings to her daughter’s husband. Lady Sasha refused to
live on the kindness of her children and had returned to the
Halvminster estates. It was rumored that the striking woman’s
mercantile skills rivaled her brother’s. She was in her
early fifties, and still quite attractive. Both men bowed, and
Lyle said, “I’ve not seen him dance, my lady, but I’ll
wager you’re right.” He turned, saying, “my lord,
if you’ll excuse me?”
De’Boril waved him away. “Look to your lady, lad, and
enjoy yourself. I’ll find you later and we can compare notes.”
Lyle nodded and was soon lost amid the crowd. Smiling at Lady de’Cort,
de’Boril held out his hand. “If that was an offer, my
lady, I’m quite incapable of refusing.”
Taking the lady’s hand, and almost immediately feeling the
expected tingling, de’Boril stifled a smile. He was sure
Halvminster had sent her over to discover why he was here, of all
places, when it was well known that he detested both Halvminster
and the typical amusements the nobility loved to indulge in. Lady
de’Cort would uncover his secret, he was sure, but the
effort was likely to cost her more than she expected…
And Lady de’Cort was just the sort of person he’d hoped
to ‘acquire’ at the affair. As the dance began, de’Boril
mused on the lady’s potential, and was pleased.
Before the dance was even half over, Gerard could detect a faint
flush beneath Lady Sasha’s cosmetics. Her eyes gradually
became slightly unfocused as well.
The dance finally came to an end. “My,” Lady de’Cort
breathed, staggering slightly, “I think I should get some
air…” She held tight to de’Boril’s arm, as if
reluctant to lose him.
“Come, Lady Sasha.” De’Boril led her through a set
of grand doors, and, instead of taking her to the balcony, as she
seemed to have indicated, he led her deeper into the House.
“You seem ill, my lady,” he said, “perhaps you
should retire to your room and lie down.”
“Yes…”
With a little direction from the lady, the pair soon arrived at
the lady’s suite. De’Boril entered without so much as
pausing and led the lady to a settee in the corner. Leaving her
for a moment, and well aware that her eyes, only half open, never
left him, he returned to the door and threw the bolt.
“I’m not quite sure—“
“Hush.” De’Boril silenced her, and drew her skirts
to her waist. Lady Sasha continued to watch him, her breathing
coming quickly, even aiding him in stripping off her pants,
baring her surprisingly shapely legs as well as her hidden
secrets. She did little more than murmur softly as de’Boril
ran his hand familiarly up her inner thigh.
When de’Boril stood, the Lady Sasha remained as he left her,
fully clothed from the waist up, her skirts gathered thickly
about her waist, and bare as the day she was born from there down.
Her bosom rose and fell rapidly, and her eyes gleamed, never
leaving the man before her.
De’Boril loosened his belt and soon freed his member. His
thick shaft captured the lady’s attention fully. De’Boril
stepped close, and without thought Lady Sasha’s hands rose
to grip him and to stroke him. Her tongue poked hungrily out a
moment before she leaned forward, moaning, to take him into her
mouth.
Gerard allowed her to suck him for a bit, watching
expressionlessly while she struggled to free her breasts from
their containment while continuing her fellacio. Freeing one, she
gripped it savagely, pinching her reddened nipple fiercely.
She continued to service him wantonly for some time, but de’Boril
was not content with this. She whined as he pulled free, and
moved toward him, unwilling to stop. Her skirts dropped to the
floor as she stood.
“No,” he chided, “I’ll take you according to
my will, not yours. Come.” The man took a firm hold of the
lady’s arm and led her to one of the many over-stuffed
sitting chairs. He took her around the back and none-too-gently
pushed her forward. With a small cry, Lady Sasha toppled over the
back of the chair, which left her toes barely touching the floor.
De’Boril immediately had her skirts up again, the heavy pile
dropping to cover her head. She could feel the tingling warmth of
his touch on her bare ass, and she couldn’t stifle her cry
when his penis entered her. She was powerless to stop him, hadn’t
wanted to stop him from the moment he’d first lifted her
skirts, and now he was taking her as impersonally as a man could.
Before he’d withdrawn and re-entered thrice, the lady had
found her breasts once more. She was soon moaning and thrashing
about, completely abandoning any attempt at salvaging her dignity.
From where he stood, the Lady Sasha had a mighty fine ass. De’Boril
pressed forward, burying himself to the hilt within her sweet
warmth. He could hear the lady’s muffled cries and moans,
and he allowed himself a triumphant grin. One hand on each
smooth, creamy buttock, he pressed into her again and again.
A short time later, Lady Sasha thrashed even more energetically,
her orgasm causing her to cry out and her body to convulse in
rhythmic pleasure. “You’re in for a surprise, my lady,”
de’Boril muttered, unheard by the woman before him, “if
you thought that was good.”
Feeling the pressure building, de’Boril did not hold back.
He thrust forward; pulling the woman’s hips back firmly,
burying his cock in her slick folds as far as possible before the
fire burst forth.
The shock of the first load brought the lady arcing upright, a
screech of pure astonishment escaping her. De’Boril held her
there, holding tight to her bare breasts as she continued to
convulse, mute now but mouth wide open in a silent scream. He
filled her with his taint, and that taint worked its magic.
Moments later, Lady Sasha de’Cort collapsed unconscious in
his arms.
Scooping her up, he somewhat carelessly tossed her to her bed,
not bothering to cover her. As he waited for the lady to recover
sufficiently, Gerard looked her over possessively. She was his
now, he knew, and he liked what he saw. The woman was no longer
in the full flower of youth, it was true, but she’d kept
herself trim and neat, and she seemed much younger than she
actually was. Such a woman, an attractive lady of the Peerage,
would be invaluable.
He was fully clothed and sitting casually in the chair where he’d
so casually fucked her, when the lady finally awoke. He watched
as she pushed herself upright, touching herself in wonder as she
felt the changes within her. When she looked at him from beneath
the many strands of silken hair that had been freed during their
encounter, he saw the now-familiar wanton need. “What have
you done to me?”
Rising, de’Boril stepped close and offered his hand. Lady de’Cort
accepted, not bothering to cover her nudity, and she allowed him
to pull her up. Looking into her eyes from inches away, and all
too aware of her bare breasts brushing lightly against him, he
said, “I’ve claimed you as my own, my lady.”
De’Boril went on to explain the situation, and as they left
the apartments, both now once more suitably presentable, Lady
Sasha de’Cort had come to realize that her entire life had
just changed forever.
Here Ends Part VIII of the Tonisian
Distillation
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