Chapter 6
Everything went as Mme. Bonacieux predicted. At the Louvre, hearing the passwords, Germain bowed low and retreated to fetch Laporte. The elder gentleman appeared quickly and D'Artagnan delivered his message. Before the men parted Laporte suggested the young man find an alibi for his time spent rescuing Madame. He felt it best, for the Cardinal would surely approach the King and ask for D'Artagnan's arrest.
The youth took his leave and went directly to his friend, M. de Treville. Gaining an audience, he explained his predicament to the Captain who immediately responded by pronouncing his appearance with him at exactly the time Madame was rescued.
Thanking his friend, the youth returned to the street which was now darkening with the setting of the sun. The luster of the city was so beautiful that the youth stretched his frame and scanned the sky for the early appearance of stars. It was then that he realized he was in love with Mme. Bonacieux. Overjoyed by this realization he fled the street and ran toward the lodgings of Aramis which were close at hand.
Passing the Rue Cassette he perceived the door of his friend's house and bolted, for something moved about the entrance heavily cloaked. At first he took it to be a man but on closer observation he recognized the smallness of the frame as belonging to a woman. Further, this woman lifted her eyes and looked about to see if she was being followed.
D'Artagnan crept closer then pulled back swiftly for the door opened and a stream of light flooded the court. Aramis smiled warmly and swiftly guided the woman inside.
"So this is how he studies his theology," D'Artagnan muttered lightly. "I shall have to see what lesson he will turn to tonight.
The youth crept closer and observed the small flicker of candle light within Aramis' bedroom. Reaching for the heavily ivied laticed wall, he climbed the steep grade and settled himself on the ledge outside the window.
The woman's face was exquisite. Her cheeks held the palest of pink and her lips the softest of moisture. Her large brown eyes burned with a mixture of fire and ice. The young Gascon gasped as he watched the woman's gown slip from her shoulders and fall to the floor. Gallantly, Aramis took her hand and guided her from the abundantly ruffled confines.
"Dearest," she whispered, embracing the Musketeer passionately, "I have missed you so much."
Aramis' almost perfectly shaped mouth lingered upon her full lips. His tongue probed the hungry mouth that sucked and tugged his slick muscle within.
"Darling...." he finally gasped, molding the length of her body and drawing her close against him. "I too have missed you," he whispered, squeezing her full bottom and drawing it tightly into his excited member.
"Come, get undressed," the woman pleaded, shaking with anticipated excitement.
The two, disrobed, immediately locked in another hot embrace. D'Artagnan sucked at his tongue, hoping to secrete enough moisture to dampen his parched throat. Good taste dictated he leave but his curiosity became the leader and he craned to see the two as they fell upon the bed.
Like a down comforter, Aramis slipped over the woman's cushioning flesh. Her legs wrapped about his calves as she insinuated her bottom and forced her pelvis to rub the standing organ between her legs.
D'Artagnan viewed the heavy pouch that Aramis carried between his thighs. It was soft and large and brilliant pink and at the moment glistened from the juice that poured down Madame's cunt. He noticed Aramis' pole to be thick rather than long and heartily headed with a large bulbous knob. More in sight was the underside that was coursed with bulging blue veins. The youth found the sight extremely pleasing and rode silently with the gentle pulsing that throbbed his cock.
Aramis slipped to the woman's breasts that appeared to be mountains of delicate pink marble. His tongue licked the circumference and then settled over the tip. There he lingered and sucked, showing an extremely blissful expression upon his face.
D'Artagnan watched as the Musketeer's member grew in size and jerked in anticipated joy. He noticed the woman's bottom contract and relax and envied the throbbing pole that grazed her thigh and snuggled her cuntie.
"Dearest ... dearest...." the woman groaned, heaving with pleasure as Aramis separated the folds of her snatch and breathed hotly upon her seeping slit. "Oh, my dear...." she moaned, lifting her delicately haired ravine to his lips. "Suck it, darling," she cooed, rolling her head back and forth upon the pillow as Aramis' lips found their way over her clit and encased it securely.
"Dearest ... dearest...." the woman cried, churning her bottom in a blissful display of enjoyment. "You suck it so well," she announced, applauding his technique.
D'Artagnan sat frozen in supreme rapture, for the woman's verbal appreciation excited him immensely. Her belly puffed and quivered and her magnificent tits heaved and swelled as the end drew near.
"Hurry, darling ... hurry," she cried, frantically reaching for Aramis' head and slashing his back raw with the sharpness of her fingernails. "Hurry, darling, I'm about to die," she yelled, heaving and rocking, lifting the Musketeer's head up and down in a splendid display of bobbing.
Aramis slipped his fingers within the drooling slit and proceeded to hammer the tightly snapping sheath until the woman's back lifted high and her legs shot straight out as she convulsed in a trembling discharge.
"Darling ... darling...." she cooed, drawing the Musketeer up over her body. "You are so splendid."
Aramis lay shaking on top of her. His pole still vibrated with hunger and the scarlet nut sweat with excitement. The woman suddenly lifted and threw the muscled frame off of her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and she slapped him violently across the face.
"Next time don't take so long," she barked.
D'Artagnan, shocked by this sudden display of rage, nearly lost his footing. His first impulse was halted by the look of complete enjoyment that shadowed Aramis' face.
"Yes, dearest," the hulk of a man replied timidly.
"Now get it out," she bellowed, slipping from the bed and pinching his nut in a most painful manner.
Aramis searched beneath the pillow and retrieved a thick handled whip with a nasty snake coiling leather strap.
"It's about time. Up on your knees," she spit, grabbing the handle and flailing the thin streak of blackness above her head.
"Hear, darling, how it hisses," she taunted, swirling the menacing angry leather above his body. "You want it, don't you, Aramis?" she teased. "You know what you must do," she whispered softly.
Like a dog, the Musketeer rolled over and lifted his arse high. The woman stepped back and trailed the whip over his flesh in feather light softness.
"You're not ready yet," she said, flicking his balls with her fingers as she pulled back. "Now get in position if you want it."
Crawling to a ball the Musketeer extended his tongue and managed to lick the very tip of his organ.
"That's better, you filthy blasphemous swine," she spit, cracking him solidly on the arse with the handle. "That's even better," she announced, letting go with a ferocious lash that tore the skin and made Aramis' nut slip into his mouth.
Aramis proceeded to guzzle and suck at his prick as the woman continued to deliver a barrage of lashes that rendered the Musketeer's bottom raw. Blood trickled to the bed and soaked the sheet. The Musketeer's body was a blaze of trembling. He shook and rocked and finally, like a spring set loose, popped open and sprayed the bed with a torrent of sperm.
"You're not finished, you disgusting priest," she shouted, spreading his cheeks apart and shoving the handle clear up the rectum. The Musketeer groaned and winced as she brutally thrust the rough leather in and out of his passage. His cock, still erect, visibly pulsed and jumped with each intensive stroke.
"Oh, my love ... I'm sorry ... I'm sorry," the man cried out, wiggling his bottom in a frantic display of pleasure. "I'm sorry," he yelled, clutching the pillow and shoving it beneath his groin. "I'm sorr...." he gurgled, seized with a violent and sudden convulsion. He hammered his cock into the pillow and fell, still in epileptic tremors.
"Do you think you're finished?" the woman shouted. "You're not. Get up on your feet."
Aramis slowly raised his body from the bed. D'Artagnan closed his eyes in disbelief. The swell of nausea filled his stomach and he looked away for fear of heaving.
"You see what you've done?" the woman exclaimed, displaying her cunt which was saturated with juice and glistened like frost on the grass. "I want you to lick everything clean," she softly announced, flopping her large bottom upon the chair. "On your knees and between my legs," she commanded.
Aramis did as he was told and crawled to between her plump thighs and proceeded to lick strand for strand clean.
The woman's face appeared as a mask of sensual desire. D'Artagnan could hardly believe that such an exquisite countenance should possess such violent cravings. Her lips parted and she began to pant as the guzzling Musketeer poked his tongue into her slippery slot. Her hips tucked under and she scooted low, forcing her building cunt to smother the burrowing face. Lifting her right hand she cracked Aramis' bottom with the handle, forcing his mouth to faster action. Her lips twisted in a cruel animal snarl and her nostrils flared as she sucked in air and clawed his back. A deep seated moan escaped her throat and she heaved forward, spilling her flowing hair upon his back as she rocked and twisted in the pangs of orgasm.
"You saintly man," she howled, jack knifing back and standing to her feet. "Here, a place on the floor is not in keeping with your holiness," she added, aiding Armis to his feet. "Absolution, father. I pray for absolution," she cried, sinking to the floor and closing her eyes. Her hands joined as if in prayer and her lips parted and she slipped her tongue out as if to receive communion.
"First a confession, my child," Aramis announced, making the sign of the cross above her head.
"I dare not tell his Holiness what wicked things I have done."
"Have courage, my child. I shall understand. I too was once a worldly man."
"Since we last spoke, dear Father," she began, "I have bedded with many but none have made me feel as clean as you." Here she paused and gently touched Aramis' cock which stood erect before her lips. "I have grievously sinned for I am in constant need of a stallion. It is my fate to be endowed with plenty and need much tending. Therefore and for only this reason, I find the cool alabaster flesh of a man so desirous."
"So far, my child, you have spoken in generalities. Will not you confide more details to your narrative?"
"Of course, dear Father, if it will please you. First, last night, before my trip, I bedded down with a foul smelling man whose name I never got, whose weight I shan't easily forget. His cock, so thick and long, so hard and strong, did run its course within my shoot and I did spend so much I feared I had none left. He was a bull of a beast and bruised my flesh as you can see but I did enjoy his sullen touch for he sprang alive all my lust."
"And before?" Aramis interrupted.
"Before him there was Tomas, the butcher's son, very young and very much fun. He had within his body a vitality I have yet to meet the match and his dong stayed long and longer yet. It was he who insisted I ride him high and cover his chest with a urine bath. He sounds perverse but it is not so for I asked that he wet my bosom with a golden spray and together we lapped the drops away. Then of course, there was Charles, the baker's brother-in-law, a handsome steed who could not keep his whang from my back door. His foolishness with my behind damned near ruined my supply for his tool was so large it pierced my facade and made me think I'd never excrete again."
"Poor child ... to be abused so," Aramis consoled.
"It is not for naught that I am sadly ruined and bitterly keep looking for the right man to stop my thirst. Do you know one who might rid me of this parched lining?"
"Open your mouth, child, absolution runs my veins. I am about to wash you clean of your sins."
The woman closed her eyes and as Aramis uttered something in Latin he slipped his cock within her mouth and pumped it to and fro until it did spurt a heavy load clear to the woman's toes.
D'Artagnan could stand the scene no longer and slipped down the ladder to the street below. His mind was a flight of confusion and he wondered what had made Aramis so destructive toward his person.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden running appearance of Picard who was obviously in search of him at Aramis'.
"What are you doing here?" D'Artagnan asked, greeting his man servant.
"Monsieur Athos has been arrested."
"By whom and where?"
"At your lodgings by the Cardinal's Guards. They mistook him for you."
"What did you tell them?"
"Nothing. He told me that since you needed your liberty he would go with them."
"And Porthos?"
"I searched for him but was unable to find him."
"I must tell M. de Treville about Athos. Stay near our lodgings and await my return."
D'Artagnan rushed to the court of the Musketeers and was told M. de Treville was at the Louvre with the King. Swiftly he made his way toward the palace and spied two figures leaving the rear entrance. One struck him very much. It appeared to be the person of Mme. Bonacieux; the other, a man who resembled his close friend, Porthos. The Gascon was not certain for the hood was well over the woman's head and the man held a handkerchief about his face. The youth watched with the eyes of a cat for his heart was suddenly flooded with jealousy and rage. At once he was certain it was she and felt bound to follow closely behind.
The couple perceived they were being watched and doubled their speed. D'Artagnan determined not to lose them and redoubled his speed, passed them and waited for them to round the corner where he breathlessly waited.
As they neared he jumped in front of them and stopped their passage cold.
"What do you want?" the gentleman asked in a broad foreign accent.
D'Artagnan at once knew it was not Porthos. "What do you want?" he snapped, standing his ground. G
"For you to move so I might pass," the gentleman replied, showing much irritation and nervousness.
"You may leave but Madame may not," D'Artagnan stated.
"Take my arm, Madame," the stranger said. "And we shall pass."
D'Artagnan stepped forward and crossed his arms, thus openly refusing passage. The stranger reached out to push the youth aside but the young Gascon stepped back and drew his sword.
"For the love of God," Madame Bonacieux cried, throwing herself in front of D'Artagnan's sword. "You will ruin us all."
The stranger lowered his handkerchief and D'Artagnan gasped, recognizing the Duke of Buckingham.
"My Lady, I ask a hundred pardons," the youth stuttered. "I love her, my Lord and I...."
"Be still, my brave young man," the Duke said. "Be of good service and follow us to my waiting carriage and if anyone should walk within twenty paces ... slay him."
The Gascon followed his instructions implicitly. When they arrived at their destination the Duke humbly bid Madame a good night and whispered something in her ear to which she replied, "I shall tell her."
When the Duke had left, D'Artagnan asked Madame Bonacieux to stay the night with him at the little Inn across the road. The woman vowed her constancy but informed the infatuated youth the impossibility of this treat.
"I must return at once to the Louvre, my love," she whispered.
"Then I shall escort you."
"That is impossible. My escort arrives now," Madame announced, directing her attention to a gentleman just arrived.
"Trust me, D'Artagnan and you shall not be sorry."
Disgustedly the youth watched his mistress climb aboard the gentleman's steed and gallop off toward the palace. In low spirits, D'Artagnan set off to search for Porthos and a night of drunkeness.