When Mariette Joubert visits the house where her grandfather was born in Paris, France, she falls through a secret doorway and finds herself in 1763, working as a courtesan in a high class house of pleasure where the infamous Marquis de Sade and his friends are regular visitors. Exclusive rights to Mariette have already been purchased by wealthy merchant, Philippe de Gaspard, but when one of de Sade’s friends decides he want her, Mariette is in big trouble. The Marquis de Vernnay is reputed to be even worse than de Sade. He also has royal connections, so his wishes take precedence over Philippe’s.
...“Ah, so we meet again, my dear mademoiselle,” de Vernnay murmured, stroking Mariette’s knee under cover of the tablecloth, as if she were his exclusive property and touching her his God-given right.
“Do you mind?” she hissed through clenched teeth, moving her knee out of his reach. “I am not available,” she added, hoping that was the right thing to say in the circumstances. “My patron…umm…my protector…”
He smiled. A rather oily, knowing smile that gave her the creeps. “You mean your lover, mademoiselle?”
“Whatever.” Mariette took a sip of wine in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. If someone was sitting on her other side, she could strike up a conversation with them and ignore de Vernnay. But, as had happened every day since she’d been here, lunch was not well attended, and the nearest person, a man sitting three seats away, appeared to be either sick or half asleep.
“So, where is he?” de Vernnay inquired, resting a hand on Mariette’s thigh.
“This lover you say you have.”
“He’s away on business. He went to the coast. Calais, I think.”
The pressure of de Vernnay’s hand increased, and Mariette held her breath. “A long journey like that is not without hazard, mademoiselle. Many dangers lie in wait along the way.”
“So I hear.” She tried to ease herself away from his touch. But, instead of retreating the way she hoped, his hand moved to the juncture of her thighs and, to her annoyance, began groping her through her clothes.
Before she could push him away and leave, the groping stopped and his hand was under her dress, making straight for her pussy. He hooked his foot around the leg of her chair to keep her immobile, and his fingers probed her bush, trying to slide their way inside. She kept her knees pressed tightly together, but still the disgusting creature wouldn’t give up. Finally, by sheer force, he managed to push the tip of one finger between her legs and press it against her wetness.
After wiggling the finger against her clit for a few seconds, he removed it, inspected the glistening digit and then proceeded to taste the wetness with his tongue.
“You are quite delicious, my dear. Sweet as honey,” he whispered as he resumed the attack by pushing his hand back under her skirt and pulling hard on her pubic hairs. “Let me in, mademoiselle. If we are to enjoy this, I must insist you open your legs un peu. I want to fuck you with my finger, yes? ”
Mariette kept still as a statue while her mind darted in a dozen different directions. She couldn’t scream and she couldn’t run. And she sure as hell couldn’t stand to have him touching her like this. Just then, the silverware beside her plate caught her attention, reminding her she wasn’t completely helpless.
After grabbing one of the forks, she stabbed the tines hard against the back of his hand.
“Stop what you are doing at once, sir. Or I will make sure this fork goes through your hand in the same way it would go through a tender piece of filet. I doubt you would enjoy that.”
“On the contrary.” He giggled and withdrew his hand a few inches, but she could see the excitement glittering in his dark eyes. “Do you not know that pain can also be pleasure of the most exquisite kind?”
The realization that the freaky bastard had enjoyed what she’d just done and was now urging her to do him even greater hurt, made Mariette feel ill...
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