The Slithering: The Cloak And The Dagger free porn video

The Slithering: The Cloak and the Dagger



The young boy quickly wiped the large amount of sweat from his brow,
finding it very difficult to withstand the unbearable heat of the dingy
workshop as he placed the fiery, malleable blade against the flat
surface of the blacksmith's anvil. The thick, black smoke choked his
lungs and he gagged a bit while trying to maintain his composure.
Grabbing his small hammer with his left hand, the boy raised it upwards
and then forcefully brought it down against the blade with a loud
strike, as bits of heated metal spewed forth. This was a considerably
trickier job than what the boy had been used to, as the blade was
considerably wider and shorter, as the boy was crafting a hunting sword
for himself. He was knowledgeable in crafting and molding metal into
different types of sharp weapons, including foils, rapiers, and sabres.
It was a trade that the boy had learned well and had dedicated
approximately six years of his currently existing twenty years towards
refining and polishing his technique.

The boy turned the blade around and raised his hammer again, striking
the surface with a loud *CLANG*, so that he could shape the metal into
the proper orientation he desired. His forge was starting to die down,
so the boy immediately grabbed the bellows and used it to push air into
the large set of coals, to keep the large bright yellow and orange
flames going. The creation of this air also happened to blow a bit of
black smoke, making the boy cough some more. Stopping his action for a
brief moment he took a damp cloth to wipe his soot-covered hands before
rubbing his nose with his right index finger, while he looked down at
himself. Even amidst all the smoke and soot, the boy was of a average
yet well-built frame, as the dirt and grime could not completely hide
the repulsive prison of his dark-skinned flesh. He had a rather tragic
c***dhood; born unto a life of slavery, he had been forcefully separated
from both of his parents when he was only ten years of age, as they both
had been immediately transferred from their current employment to work
for the plantation/estate of the then newly-arrived Comte d'Beaufort.
Surprisingly enough, the boy did not shed a single tear during this
entire traumatizing event, choosing to keep his anger and sadness
hidden.

The boy was subsequently taken under the wing of a local blacksmith,
Oliver Walters, but their relationship was anything but cordial. Oliver
was formerly a very skilled craftsman himself, but the years of
indulging in so many bottles of rum and partaking in the pleasurable
company of women had degraded his abilities, and had saddled him with a
reputation for being boorish, shady and negligent with his craft. He
oversaw the boy's tutelage of the basic techniques, to which the boy
possessed an incredible mastery of them in such a short time.
Consequently, Oliver wasted no time coercing the boy into constructing
and forging more tools and weapons, while he relegated himself to his
decadent lifestyle, and he had been rewarded handsomely for the boy's
efforts.

However, over the last few years the constant abuse of his paunchy,
overweight body by selfish self-indulgence had taken his toll, and with
it, corrupted and converted his mind into one of jealousy, distrust, and
loathing. And Oliver's target of derision was none other than his young
apprentice. He secretly despised how effortless it had been for the boy
to pick up his craft, and perform at an even better level and
understanding than himself. His hatred continued to be compounded by
prejudice, as the boy was nothing more than a common slave, of little
reputation or regard. He drowned his frustrations via frequent visits
to the many drinking establishments in Beaufort Royale, choosing to use
that time to forget it all. It was not unusual then for the boy to find
his master returning during the daytime to their smithy pummeled with
the mixture of perspiration and liqueur on his foul-smelling breath.
Oliver's level of resentment escalated to irrational outbursts, as he
would often punish the boy by grabbing a wooden paddle and
slamming/slapping it hard against the boy's body. Seizing the boy by
his shoulders, Oliver would drunkenly berate the boy, then haphazardly
fling the boy to the ground while he'd continue to beat him some more
with the paddle. Each strike of the paddle would leave large, red
whelps all over the boy's chest and arms, which soon turned into
significant purplish-discolored bruises and bumps. After his little
"session" with the boy, Oliver would retire to the adjacent room near
the smithy, where he would summarily fall fast asleep. The souvenirs
Oliver left on the boy's battered skin were a painful, persistent
reminder which the boy silenced by delving into his work.

The boy had completely finished molding and bending the hunting sword
into its proper shape when he noted his master entering the blacksmith's
area, stumbling unsteadily towards him, unkempt and with a liqueur
bottle in his left hand. The boy barely flinched upon seeing his
master, until he noticed that Oliver had his arm slung around an
immaculately dressed soldier wearing a red and white silk frock coat,
decorated with various commendations and matching white breeches, with a
neatly trimmed Caesar-styled haircut, also accompanied by a long metal
scabbard painted in red, holding the soldier's military sword. His
attire was in stark contrast with the grimy appearance of his drunken
master. Thomas also saw that the soldier's face was chiseled and stern,
certainly one attractive enough to receive attention from many of the
female residents living in Beaufort Royale.

"You there!" called the soldier, as he caught a glimpse of the boy
almost hidden in the dusty confines of the blacksmith shop. "Boy!"

After a minute of silence the boy replied, hesitant. "M-Me, sir?"

"Yes, you. Is this gentleman I am holding up right now your master?"
asked the soldier.

The boy was nervous and began to cough. He didn't have a cold, but it
was just a nervous habit that he maintained whenever he was uncertain on
how to respond to a situation. His master didn't help either, as he was
too inebriated to elicit a response.

"I asked you, slave," said the soldier in a more commanding manner,
almost angry, "Do you know this man, or not?"

The boy was fearful now, worried the soldier would retaliate, and was
about to reply, when he was interrupted by a soft, silky enticing voice,
"That's quite enough Lieutenant Ducard."

The officer immediately placed Oliver onto an empty chair and looked
towards the direction of the heavenly voice that just spoke. Quietly
and gracefully walking into the blacksmith shop, was a vision of womanly
loveliness. The boy was stunned - she looked to be perhaps in her mid
to late thirties, a raven-haired, sensual being adorned in a lavish,
intricate ivory white gown with light gold engeantes situated around her
svelte arms. The gown was pleasingly exposed in front with a low-
plunging neckline, accompanied by a bodice delicately laced with
matching gold ruffles that seemed to fully accentuate the noblewoman's
creamy white cleavage. The noblewoman seemed to almost glide into the
shop, mostly in part due to the large occupancy of her gown as it
brushed along the floor. Her black hair was perfectly attired, balanced
high atop her angelic-looking face. Her right hand was holding an
intricate, golden silk handkerchief, which was being used to mask her
full-bodied, alluring lips as well as protect her from the dusty
environment she was in. She soon sauntered into the shop to address the
situation.

"There is no need for that tone of voice in my presence," said the woman
sternly. "It is very obvious that this boy is indeed the apprentice of
Monsieur Oliver, my ahem...companion who accosted me earlier today," she
remarked with a slight smile.

The soldier nodded. "As you wish." He faced the woman directly before
asking, "Will there be anything else you need from me then?"

The woman responded in her pleasant singsong manner, "No Lieutenant,
thank you very much. You have been most helpful. I shall take things
from here." She waved her left hand, which was gloved in fashionable
white silk, indicating to the officer that he was dismissed.

"Very well then, I must return to my duties. Good day to you all," said
the soldier, clicking his heels and politely bowing to her before
exiting the blacksmith shop.

The young boy felt slightly more at ease as the officer left, but was
still a bit confused by the sudden presence of this angelic creature.
He accidentally and clumsily dropped his small hammer on the ground,
completely distracted by her elegance. "O-Oh!" he stammered. "I-I am
s-sorry..."

"My my, are you always this perturbed?" laughed the woman, sounding soft
and flirtatious. She moved a little closer to him, as the boy heard the
sonorous sounds of Oliver sitting u*********s on the wooden chair.
"What is your name, lad?"

"T-Thomas, Madame..." the boy uttered, looking down, still standing.

The woman softly placed her smooth hand along the grimy surface of the
boy's cheek; to him, the texture of her hand was like a piece of finely
polished ivory, and it both surprised and comforted the boy, who was
used to the heavy hand of Oliver's abusive drunken outbursts. "Thomas,"
she smiled again. "What a lovely name."

Her head slowly looked forwards at the display of finished weaponry
strewn and arranged in their individual scabbards and sheathes, as she
moved closer to Thomas and leaned her torso forward, her bosom
invitingly thrust in plain view for him to admire. Thomas made a little
gasp, startled by the extreme vicinity of the noblewoman's body. He
tilted his head, noting the delicate, supple shape of her milky white
globes. He oddly saw something that was in rather stark contrast on the
woman's chest: a small, 4-cm black tattoo etched onto her upper left
breast in the shape of what appeared to be a snake, its body upright in
the shape of an S.

The woman looked down at Thomas, and lifted his chin upwards to face
her. "Admiring my body are you now, Monsieur Thomas? Especially my
bosom?"

Thomas silently shook his head, even though his wandering eye betrayed
his true intention. He felt both intimidated and intrigued by the
confidence and charisma of this elegant noblewoman. The woman smiled,
flattered at the modesty of this young man, as she pursed her lips.
"So... your master made all of these...weapons? Did you have a hand in any
of them?" she asked, pointing again to the incapacitated Oliver slumped
in his chair.

Thomas frowned a little. Even this gorgeous, angelic creature was still
blind to his efforts, like so many other people. "Y-Yes ma'am, my
master makes most of the weapons, while I serve to assist him."

"Mmmm...I see," said the woman, leaning her body back. The woman glanced
over at Oliver before returning her gaze back to Thomas. "Monsieur
Thomas, would you be so kind as to do a favor for me?"

Thomas felt comforted by the gentle lilt of the woman's soothing voice.
"Y-Yes Madame?"

The woman reached behind her back with both of her delicate hands. She
suddenly retrieved a small, heavy crimson and gold box/container. As
she opened the box, Thomas soon beheld a ornately designed, bronze hilt,
its shape resembling two entwined snakes, their tails interlocking to
form the pommel while their serpentine heads acted as cross-guards. The
serpents' eyes were inlaid with small yet dark ruddy-colored ruby gems.
Thomas couldn't help but be transfixed by this hilt, which was neatly
set into the indentation. The only thing that appeared to be missing
was a proper blade for the dagger/knife.

"Beautiful isn't it?" said the woman, as she held the hilt gingerly with
both of her delicate hands. Thomas silently acknowledged with a nod.
"It's been in my...family possession for more than 100 years, it
originally was part of a ceremonial dagger that was used during the 17th
century."

The woman suddenly passed on the box to Thomas, who u*********sly
accepted it with both hands. "I am in need of your master's expertise,
Monsieur Thomas. You see, the blade of this dagger is missing, and is
in need of a replacement. I would like your master to forge the same
blade that would fit in this box. Oh, and you're more than welcome to
help him."

Thomas nodded. "Y-Yes Madame. He certainly can do that for you. H-How
soon would you need this complete?"

The woman smiled at him, covering her delicate face with the golden silk
handkerchief before replying, "By the stroke of ten this glorious
evening."

Thomas was a bit taken back by the unusual deadline. "S-stroke of ten?"

The woman smiled. "Yes my boy, I need it by then. I am going to bestow
it as part of a...gift...to someone. It is just now becoming mid-day, so
will this be a problem?"

"No Madame, not at all," quickly replied Thomas with a sincere glint in
his dark brown eyes. "I can have it ready by then."

"Very good," said the woman, leaning over to kiss Thomas's grimy cheek.
"I knew that I found the right...person for this delicate task." Thomas
blushed as he felt her warm lips plant their mark.

The woman quietly adjusted her gown, flashing another pleasant smile at
Thomas. "Well, I must be going now Monsieur Thomas. Please deliver the
dagger personally to me by this evening. My home is located not too far
from here - it is the large white plantation located south of the town
square - Belle de Lune. My servants will be aware of your arrival, so
there should not be any confusion."

"Yes Madame, I will be punctual with your request, no worries," replied
Thomas.

The woman turned around and began slowly gliding her way towards the
entrance. "Wait Madame," said Thomas, almost running to catch up with
her. "I-I never learned of your name?"

The raven-haired beauty turned her head back and winked, whispering to
Thomas, "My name is Angelique...Angelique d' Beaufort."

Thomas was stunned. "Oh my...Comtesse d' Beaufort?"

"Oui, dear lad," said the comtesse with a sly grin. "Do not keep me
waiting now with that dagger. Au revoir Monsieur." And with that, the
woman exited the blacksmith shop, leaving Thomas a bit dumbfounded.
Thomas quickly opened the box again, noting the dimensions of the
indentation/carving that would make up the blade of the ceremonial
dagger. He had never seen a hilt like that before in all of his limited
years working as a blacksmith's apprentice. Closing the box up, he
began to rub his chin thoughtfully. He was a bit saddened by the fact
that the beautiful woman had asked his master to create the dagger, but
being keenly aware of the prejudice and judgment that had befallen him,
he was not completely shocked. Nevertheless, he knew Oliver would not
make the deadline, especially in his current disheveled state. He had
to please this woman, and to take matters into his own hands.

***********

Angelique d' Beaufort quietly looked back at the blacksmith shop, being
able to glimpse Thomas's rather pensive behavior. She then briefly
looked around both sides of the street, as the coachman opened the small
doors to her intricate carriage. Gracefully climbing in, she dabbed her
cheeks with her golden handkerchief, before removing her white silk
glove in her left hand. As she slowly removed the glove, a moderate
humming sound could be heard, which was coming from an exquisite, simply
decorated blackened metal ring shaped and looped like a menacing snake.
Shiny diamonds were set into the eyes of the snake's head, and they were
glowing an unusually bright yellow/golden color. The beautiful comtesse
smiled, with a calculating look on her pretty face that was in stark
contrast to her sincere and gentle demeanor back in the blacksmith shop.
"Good for you my dear Monsieur Thomas," she whispered to herself, "good
for you." She nodded quietly to her coachman, who closed the door as
the carriage soon took off to her estate. Her hand delicately and
repeatedly teased her blackened silver snake ring, as its eyes continued
to emit that same ominous bright yellow light...

About a few hours later, Thomas had completed the comtesse's request,
having forged a perfect, flawless steel blade affixed to the ornate
ceremonial hilt. It was perhaps the quickest he had ever spent forging
a blade, thankfully it was one that would be small and handheld. The
blade's shape, length, and width matched the red velvet indentation in
the interior of the carrying case/box. Oliver had instructed Thomas in
the past on honing and shaping raw steel, and that was one of Thomas's
strengths as a fledgling blacksmith. The blade measured exactly 6
inches in length and was 1 ½ inches wide. Thomas had beveled and molded
the blade, before tempering it in the forge, making sure it was sharp
and resilient to any outside force. He held the elaborate piece of
weaponry with both hands, rather proud at his successful merging of
blade and hilt. He only hoped the comtesse would approve when he
delivered the dagger personally to her later that evening.

Thomas looked at the clock hanging on the dusty wall of the shop; it was
only five o'clock. Placing it carefully into the box, Thomas had the
dagger set gently within the box's interior, before he closed the box
and retired to the back room to rest for an hour or so. He had been so
immersed in creating the dagger that his body was exhausted.

***********

Oliver scratched his scruffy, unkempt beard as he clutched the ornate
box containing Thomas's completed dagger. He was quickly walking as
fast as his slightly oversized breeches could carry him, adjusting his
dark brown overcoat, as he weaved through the crowd of people hurrying
themselves in the town square. When he had awoken from his drunken
stupor, the first thing he saw was his talented apprentice's handiwork.
Oliver grinned to himself - he remembered the lovely comtesse had
mentioned about the dagger and her need for a proper blade to fit the
hilt, and had seemed intrigued when Oliver boasted that he could create
a fine blade befitting such a hilt. Of course, years of wasting away at
his craft, due to his partaking of fine wine and women, had degenerated
his skills to a point where he no longer could even temper a simple
piece of steel.

Thank God for that pathetic slave-boy, thought Oliver. He was already
planning on forcing his apprentice to complete work on the dagger
immediately, so he could surprise the lovely comtesse and make good on
his word. But as soon as Oliver noticed the dagger, a sly smile
appeared on his grizzled face, realizing that Thomas had already
completed the task without him even mentioning it. Oliver had not seen
any sign of Thomas, settling on the fact that he must be napping in the
other room. Without any hesitation, he had grabbed the box, found his
hat and overcoat, and quickly exited the blacksmith shop...

Oliver continued to make his way past the outskirts of the city, heading
upwards to the large stately white Beaufort plantation. He fumbled with
his hands as he placed them inside his overcoat, before finally pulling
out his copper-plated pocket watch. It was almost nine o'clock. The
comtesse would have finished her supper and would perhaps welcome his
unexpected appearance more, especially since he now had her beloved
dagger in his possession. Oliver maintained his smug grin, as he soon
reached the large steel gates of the plantation, which were
coincidentally enough, half-open, allowing Oliver to slip inside.

***********
Oliver's mouth was agape as he approached the impressive structure that
made up the Beaufort estate known as Belle de Lune. The plantation was
massive, its architecture made up of solid white columns, which
supported two stories of rooms and windows, all of which were lit this
evening. There was a full moon tonight, its luminescence shining on the
plantation, which gave it an oddly calm and eerie hue. Stopping at the
massive, ornate front door, Oliver located the pulley which was attached
to the moderately-sized doorbell, and tugged on it. The doorbell made a
simple clanging sound, signifying to the occupants that someone was at
the door. A few minutes later, Oliver saw the front door open, as a
young comely French servant girl appeared from the darkened
hallway/foyer of the estate. "Bonsoir Monsieur," the woman said
pleasantly. "How can I help you?"

"Ah hello, my sweet!" Oliver greeted, flashing his best smile. The
servant girl was rather repulsed by Oliver's foul stench, as she covered
her mouth with a delicate white handkerchief. "I need to speak to
Comtesse d'Beaufort on an urgent matter. Would she happen to be present
this evening?" Oliver eyed the young woman, who was rather perturbed at
the audacity of Oliver's words; he was taken back by her beauty: a
delicate golden blonde flower with soft green eyes, wearing a light-blue
cotton gown with a delicate white petticoat underneath. She couldn't
have been but a year or two apart from the equally youthful-looking
comtesse herself, and also possessed quite a lovely, appealing figure
underneath her well-tailored gown. Due to the darkness of the room, she
was carrying a golden candelabra, its bright light providing both warmth
and direction.

"O-Oui Monsieur, the comtesse is in." the servant girl nodded, but then
shook her head. "However, she is preparing for a guest that will be
arriving shortly and asked not to be disturbed..."

Oliver did not back down. "Awww...well I really have to speak with her, I
have something to give to her. Couldn't I just chat her for just a
smidge, sweetheart?"

"I'm sorry Monsieur but..."

"It's alright Colette," chimed a melodious, breathy voice coming from
inside. "I know this gentlemen. He may enter - bring him to the
drawing room and I will see him."

Colette turned her head and nodded, then looked to Oliver. "Oui Madame,
understood. If you would follow me please Monsieur..."

Oliver smiled as he enthusiastically entered the mansion, walking
closely behind the servant girl...

***********

Thomas yawned as he rubbed his eyes. He hadn't slept for that long
period of time in well, ever. He slowly stretched and pushed his body
out of bed, although this was a reluctant decision, as Thomas had just
spent the last few hours enjoying the most pleasant dream involving
himself and the lovely Comtesse d'Beaufort . He had envisioned the two
of them having a lovely picnic, relaxing in a quiet meadow, just shortly
after they both had taken a beautiful afternoon stroll within the lush,
peaceful trees. He was acting as the perfect gentleman, and she was
thoroughly impressed with his sense of propriety, even if he was only
relegated to the low socioeconomic status of a blacksmith's colored
apprentice.

Thomas suddenly heard the loud chiming of the clock on the wall:
*CLANG!* *CLANG!* *CLANG!*...looking over, he gasped: it was ten o'clock
in the evening, and he had overslept! Thomas quickly got out of bed,
and ran over to the blacksmith shop to gather his coat and most
importantly pick up the box containing his finished dagger. He shook
his head in disbelief when he saw an empty space on the table where he
placed the box/case. Thomas frantically began to search for it, looking
everywhere, including the nearby bedroom, other tables, underneath the
forge, etc. He began to be significantly perturbed, until he came to a
realization: his master must have picked it up! Thomas was incensed -
he did NOT want Oliver to take credit for his hard work. Grabbing his
coat, Thomas raced out of the blacksmith shop, heading for the Beaufort
plantation. He only hoped that he wasn't too late...

***********

Oliver looked around the dimly lit drawing room he was currently
standing in, holding the box/case containing the ceremonial snake dagger
underneath his right arm. He continued to scratch his beard as he
looked around. The drawing room was large and spacious, with a dark
black themed design that was both attractive and mysterious. He saw an
ornate, green velvet-patterned couch to which he helped himself to by
sitting down, enjoying the soft feel of the fabric against his skin.
Two matching black velvet chairs were situated around an ornate wooden
table carved in an elongated oval shape. Oliver also identified a large
decorated marble fireplace, which currently had been lit and was
responsible for the dimly lit appearance of the room. The walls were
adorned with various paintings inlaid into exquisite brass frames.
Oliver could identify a smaller painting of the Comtesse, painted only a
few years ago. Wearing a silk black and green gown, Angelique was posed
sitting down, with a rather stern look on her face. On the opposite
side of the wall, there stood a much larger painting, serving possibly
as the main attraction - it was a painting of a richly dressed,
sophisticated gentlemen, one of nobility, dressed in a dark navy blue
overcoat. Underneath he had a dark red vest and his shoulders had dark
red tassels on both sides. Complementing his look, the officer wore a
pair of white breeches, and had on tall, leather, dark black boots which
were measured up to the level of his knees. He had a slight smile on
his face as he appeared to be posing proudly, with his left hand at his
side in a relaxing manner, while the other had grasped his overcoat,
tugging it in the middle.

Oliver stood up from the couch, walking over to view the paintings more
closely. As he continued to stare at them, he heard a pleasant sounding
angelic voice behind him, "I see you are staring at that painting of my
late husband, Monsieur."

Oliver, startled by the voice behind him, turned around and came face to
face with the Comtesse herself. Oliver could not believe his eyes -
Angelique was lavishly attired in a beautiful silk crimson red nightgown
with black lace ruffles around the neckline. The front of her nightgown
was quite pleasing to the eye, as her bountiful chest swayed lightly
underneath the sheer fabric of her black silk chemise. Inside the dimly
lit room, Oliver could see a hint of Angelique's matching crimson red
panties, with the same black ruffles as seen on her nightgown top. Her
raven-black hair was stylishly let down in a graceful set of side-swept
curls and contrasted very well with her smooth creamy lovely face; each
strand collected gracefully against her svelte shoulders. Oliver's
heart melted as he saw Angelique's dark, almost blood-red coated lips
purse into a polite smile. Angelique was holding a small circular tin
tray containing two double-knopped wine glasses and a bottle of red
wine; the glasses had already been previously poured and contained about
half of the ruddy-colored liquid.

Oliver smiled and bowed to the Comtesse as she slowly walked over and
placed the circular tin tray on the coffee table. "Good evening
Madame...my goodness, don't you look beautiful this fine evenin'..."

Angelique smiled back alluringly, flattered by Oliver's words. "Merci
beaucoup, Monsieur." She curiously eyed her scruffy-looking, unexpected
guest as she sat down in a nearby chair, intentionally crossing her
long, smooth legs for him, as Oliver managed to sneak a tiny peek at her
red and black panties as the fabric of her nightgown was naughtily
lifted a half an inch upwards on her body. Letting her arm d**** itself
on the chair's armrest, her beautiful onyx-shaded eyes were focused on
Oliver as she continued speaking, "Hmmm...my apologies. I was expecting
someone else this evening..."

Oliver was charmed by the Comtesse's gentle voice and countered with his
own Southern-style firting. "Oh please Madame, I reckon such a lovely
gal as yourself can't waste too much time on an ol' hound dog like me."

Angelique nodded, and then suddenly noticed the box Oliver was carrying.
"I see you have my box...where did you get it?"

Oliver grinned as he presented the box in front of Angelique, slowly
opening it to reveal the ornately designed ceremonial dagger, now
adorned with a proper steel blade. "I wanted to surprise you, my dear.
I kept my word, and completed the dagger, as I promised during our
meeting earlier today."

Angelique accepted the box, learning her torso forward, her creamy
cleavage lustily exposed in front of Oliver's eyes. Oliver did notice a
strange-appearing snake-shaped tattoo over her left upper chest, but
paid no significant attention, his thoughts mostly guided by his
libidinous nature. Angelique smiled as she lifted the dagger from the
box: it was a work of art, lovingly crafted. She even noticed the
polished metal of the hilt. "Ah oui...the dagger! It looks exquisite
Monsieur. Surely you have outdone yourself, Monsieur Oliver. Bravo,
mon ami!" Angelique gingerly placed the dagger back into the box and
securely closed it.

Oliver immediately picked up one of the filled wine glasses and
chuckled. "I suppose this calls for a celebration of sorts, Madame?"

Angelique again flashed a gentle smile, tilting her head, and lifting
the other glass of wine. "Indeed Monsieur, you have certainly earned
it, and that is why I prepared this little toast. She giggled as she
raised her glass of wine. "To Monsieur Walter Oliver - one of the most
wonderful blacksmiths in Beaufort Royale!"

Oliver smirked and raised his glass to clink it against Angelique's.
"Here here!" Oliver immediately lifted his head up and simultaneously
let the warm red liquid flow into his mouth. As he tasted the wine,
Oliver could identify its sweetened flavor but also a rather harsh,
strong taste accompanying it. He also could taste an odd-textured
liquid that was a bit thick. "Where did you get this wine?" asked
Oliver.

"Oh it is in my late husband's family Monsieur," replied Angelique, as
she sipped her wine glass. "One of the finest Pinot noirs in France and
it was made in 1834, which was a very good year. Do you happen to like
it Monsieur?" She continued to look at Oliver, with a bit of mischief in
her eyes...

Oliver smiled as he nodded and continued to tip his full glass, downing
the rest of the oddly tasting wine. "There's just something about a
good wine that...t-that.....hmmm...sorry I'm starting to feel...a little....I
can't keep my eyes..."

Angelique continued to maintain her smile as she sipped her glass again.
"Monsieur Oliver? Are you feeling alright?" she said, feigning concern.

"I-I'm...getting..sleepy....W-What...what did you...do...ohhhhhhh..." Oliver
suddenly dropped his wine glass and collapsed onto the couch, completely
u*********s.

A Cheshire cat-like grin appeared on Angelique's lovely face, similar to
a cat that just ate the canary. She leaned her body back against the
chair, as she slowly spread her legs apart. Lightly tugging on the soft
fabric of her nightgown, she pulled back the sheer, lacy hem of the
lengthened undergarment, exposing her dark red panties, which appeared
rather damp and moist. Slipping her fingers underneath, she slowly
tugged them downwards, as she let her red-polished fingers move closer;
they slowly entered her wet pussy, which made Angelique shiver in
ecstasy. Pulling her two fingers out, she raised both of them, now
coated with her own sticky white pussy nectar; the smell of her inner
juices was always intoxicating to Angelique. It was the same milky
white juice that she had laced and mixed into Oliver's wine glass before
he took his sip, and the reason he immediately passed out. She then
dipped her two fingers into her own wine glass, eyeing the sticky white
liquid collecting in a light swirl inside her glass. Quickly stirring
the glass until the white liquid was near invisible, Angelique gulped
down her drink, no longer being polite and elegant, and finished it with
one big swallow, licking her blood-red coated lips in a wanton manner.

Licking her fingers to savor the last remnants of her wine, Angelique
displayed a rather perverted grin on her lovely face. It was almost too
easy to trick that idiotic, lowlife blacksmith into coming here, and
even easier to get him to drink her "wine." She knew that Oliver would
not pass up the opportunity to steal Thomas's dagger and bring it over
here, presenting it as his own work. What a complete fool; well, no
matter, Angelique thought, I must get this boor ready for when Thomas
arrives. Angelique suddenly grabbed a small handheld bell and lightly
shook it, making it ring.

Within a few minutes, the lovely servant girl Colette had quietly
entered and stood by her Comtesse's side. She looked down at Angelique,
and then suddenly said in a deep, cultured, baritone-sounding voice
incongruous with her petite body, "Yes Mistress Angelique?"

"The job is done, Henri. Monsieur Oliver will be passed out for only an
hour, so I need you to take him to the kitchen and keep him there till
he wakes up. When he does he will be my puppet, so lead him back then
into the drawing room. I must now get ready for Monsieur Thomas's
arrival, so if you need me I will be in my boudoir getting ready."
replied Angelique, now speaking with a very deep, very menacing gruff
baritone that was much more frightening than the masculine voice coming
from Colette's lips.

"As you wish Mistress," replied the manly-sounding Colette. She
immediately tugged on the arms of the u*********s Oliver and slung his
heavy body over her backside, causing her to hunch forward a little as
Oliver's arms were laying across.

"Oh and Henri, Monsieur Thomas will probably arrive before I am
completely ready. Please change out of your servant clothes and wear
something a bit more...enticing for the ceremony, if you know what I
mean..." said Angelique, letting out a menacing, seductive deep chuckle.
"Is she still quite hidden?"

"Oui my beloved Mistress," replied Henri/Colette, lowering her head
politely. "Monsieur Thomas will not be able to see her until after the
ceremony, when we bring her to him."

"Very good," smiled Angelique with a fiendish glint in her onyx-colored
eyes. "Inform me when Monsieur Thomas has arrived and guide him again
to the drawing room. I shall be in my boudoir," the wicked comtesse
stated, lightly teasing her luxuriously long curly raven-colored
tresses.

"Oui my Comtesse," replied Colette, now playfully switching to her
innocent girlish French accent, trying to stifle a feminine-sounding
giggle while her eyes quickly and idly wandered to look at Angelique's
scantily clad nightgown. Still managing to maintain an impressive
amount of brute strength, the false servant girl carried Oliver's
portly, u*********s body to the kitchen while Angelique quickly cleaned
up the tin tray of red wine and readjusted her undergarments, making
sure she didn't make too early a mess before Thomas's arrival. She was
looking forward to having some 'playtime' with the pathetic Monsieur
Oliver, and she couldn't wait to see Thomas's face, as she had big plans
for him. Angelique let a boisterously evil chuckle escape her luscious,
blood-red lips, as she too sauntered upstairs, swaying her shapely hips,
preparing for the next phase in her plan...

***********

Thomas had scurried as fast as he could, knowing that he was already
very late to his appointment with the Comtesse. Yet it still took him a
while to reach the Beaufort plantation/estate. He quickly pushed his
way through the estate's iron gates, quickly striding all the way up to
the front door. Thomas's breathing was labored after basically
sprinting his way to Belle de Lune. He silently cursed himself: how
could he have been so careless to leave the ceremonial dagger exposed
and in plain sight! Even someone less crafty than his master could have
pilfered the dagger.

Thomas located the pulley and tugged on it fully, as the doorbell made a
very loud, abrupt, aggressive sound. As he waited for someone to
answer, Thomas continued to muddle through his hurried thoughts. Now
that Oliver had the dagger, Thomas almost certain that he had already
presented it as a gift to Angelique, and would steal all of the credit.
He could only hope that the Comtesse would be willing to forgive his
carelessness...

The front door soon opened, as a lovely young woman appeared to greet
Thomas, almost emerging from the darkened foyer. "Bonsoir Monsieur," she
said in a very pleasant, friendly tone; she was holding a lit
candelabra.

"U-Um, hi..." said Thomas, a bit surprised. He was stunned at the
ravishingly beautiful woman with golden blonde hair, dressed in a sheer,
silk and lace sleeveless pink chemise with a hemline that was also of an
intricate pink laced pattern, reaching up to the woman's upper thighs.
The front of her chemise was partially see-through, as Thomas could see
a gathering of whitish-pink dots making up the pattern which barely
concealed her smooth, flat stomach. She placed a delicate hand on her
shapely hips, as Thomas noted a gentle rise in her cleavage - a fully
supported, pert bosom was contained inside the blonde woman's chemise.
She had soft green eyes and full, pouty lips which curled into a lovely
smile, and her demeanor was oddly welcoming to Thomas. Her hair was
arranged in an attractive, relaxed manner, with soft honey-blonde
shoulder-length curls. She certainly seemed to exude more confidence
and mystique compared to her earlier ruse as a servant girl.

"Bonsoir," repeated the blonde woman. "You must be Monsieur Thomas,
n'est -ce pas?"

"Y-Yeah, that's me," replied Thomas, trying to stifle a cough, quite
nervous.

The blonde woman offered her delicate hand in front of Thomas. "I have
heard so much about you from the Comtesse. My name is Colette; I am
her...companion, shall we say?" she giggled, blushing a little.

Thomas reluctantly accepted the woman's hand and bent his head down to
kiss it, before the woman slowly retracted her hand, blushing. "My my,
aren't you a polite gentleman!" smiled Colette. "I am certainly quite
impressed."

"Forgive me, Mademoiselle Colette, but..I-I need to s-speak with the
Comtesse. Is she..."

"Yes yes...she already notified me of your arrival," Colette interrupted,
twirling her curly blonde locks idly. "Come on inside and I will take
you to her."

Thomas nodded and quietly followed Colette, entering the stately
plantation...

***********

The foyer of the mansion was dimly lit, much like the drawing room and
all other rooms of the plantation. Thomas was uncertain if the Comtesse
preferred to keep her wonderfully lavish home minimally lit at night.
Colette smiled at him again as she motioned him to sit down at a nearby
small wooden table situated at the foyer entrance.

"If you'll wait here, Monsieur Thomas, the Comtesse will be down
shortly. She is just...freshening up. I need to take care of some things
in our drawing room," said Colette.

"Ah I see," replied Thomas, nodding. "Very well, I will wait...thank you
C-Colette for your hospitality."

Colette soon opened the large doors which led to the black drawing room,
as Thomas watched her glide gracefully disappear into the darkness.
Thomas could not see Colette using her candelabra to light the other
candles within the drawing room, only. About fifteen minutes had soon
passed, and Thomas was getting impatient. He was still nervous about
what Angelique would say when he admitted that he had stupidly misplaced
the dagger. His grimy palms had become sweaty, and he shook his right
knee, fearing the worst. Finally, he decided he could not stay seated,
and got up, heading towards the lit drawing room, hoping he could keep
Colette company.

The entire drawing room was a bit more illuminated as Thomas could make
out the main points of interest in the room, namely the ornate paintings
of Angelique and her husband, the large, spacious black couch and
matching chairs, and a fireplace and mantle that did not appear to be in
use at the time. He looked around closely but Colette was nowhere to be
found. She must have left earlier to speak to the Comtesse, thought
Thomas, still shaking a bit. Thomas continued to stare at all of the
luxurious surroundings, taking particular notice to a closet door that
was somewhat open. He wondered if Colette had forgotten to close it in
her haste to tidy things up in the drawing room.

Colette had a lewd-appearing grin on her face as she walked up the
winding set of stairs inside the dark narrow corridor leading to
Angelique's boudoir, using her candelabra as a guiding light. As
instructed by Angelique, before exiting the drawing room through the
secret passage, she intentionally left the closet door open so as to
provide a perfect "hiding spot" for Thomas. Finally reaching the secret
door, Carefully pushing them forward to open them completely, she
entered the equally darkened master bedroom, lit too only by multiple
candlelights. Angelique was standing in front of a large vanity, having
applied a second coat of blood-red lipstick. She also had just wrapped
herself in a large, flowing velvet black cloak with a unique yellow
serpentine-like trim on the edges. She quickly lifted the top of the
cloak, covering her head with a black hood which concealed her blackened
eyes.

"Monsieur Thomas is here, my Mistress," said Colette gruffly in the same
cultured baritone voice as heard earlier.

Angelique grinned wickedly, very pleased with her companion.
"Excellent. You have done well. I shall bring Monsieur Oliver back to
the drawing room through the secret entrance from the kitchen. If I am
correct Monsieur Thomas will most likely wander his way to the drawing
room. Eventually he will be seeking that hiding spot I instructed you
to 'accidentally' reveal to him," Angelique chuckled in her deep,
rumbling baritone timbre.

"Indeed my Mistress," nodded Colette in complete agreement. She tilted
her head thoughtfully and asked, "What of Lieutenant Ducard?"

Angelique lifted her head slowly while quietly buttoning her cloak,
concealing her luscious body save for a peek of her magnificent creamy
white cleavage, the lovely sight causing her to lightly lick her lips.
"I already paid a little visit to his military base right after I had
finished meeting with Monsieur Thomas," replied Angelique calmly in her
deep baritone voice. "His military discipline was neither a challenge
nor a match for me...he has been given his instructions and he will show
up at the exact time I requested."

Angelique soon took the decorative box containing the dagger carefully
with both hands, handing it to Colette. "Do NOT lose this box or I will
be most displeased with you Henri," she growled sternly, her voice
booming threateningly. "I shall ring for you when I am with Monsieur
Oliver and ready, understood?"

"O-Oui, my Mistress," replied Colette, penitently lowering her head,
unable to look Angelique in the eye, her oddly masculine voice trembling
a bit as she did not dare disobey Angelique. She accepted the box and
clutched its surface tightly with both hands.

Angelique's cold glare turned to a smile as she gently stroked Colette's
cheek in a calm and reassuring manner with the back of her soft hand.
"Do not forget to change into your cloak as well before you enter the
drawing room. And now, I must tend to Monsieur Oliver in my own,
'unique' way..."

Angelique grabbed one of the candelabras in her boudoir and then
sauntered over to the entrance to the secret passage, sliding the false
wall forward so that she may gain access, as she disappeared into the
darkened corridor. Colette lightly opened the box, and saw the
magnificent ceremonial snake-themed dagger resting gently in the box's
velvet red interior. Closing the box securely, she quickly exited the
boudoir, heading to her own well-furnished bedroom to further change for
the ceremony...

***********

Thomas was staring at the exquisite paintings in the drawing room,
paying particular attention to the portrait of the Comte himself dressed
in the dashing military uniform. Thomas was both impressed and
intimidated by the stature of that man. He remembered that this
nobleman was responsible for separating his family, as his parents were
both sent to work for his plantation. He never knew what happened to
them afterwards; rumors had spread before that they were unhappy and had
decided to escape, essentially abandoning Thomas to live under the
abusive hand of his new master. Another rumor was that the Comte caught
them and had his overseer tie them to a post and deliver one-hundred
lashes each, which eventually ended up being the cause of their deaths.
Thomas tried to block out the horrible memories of his separation from
his parents as he continued to study the Comte's portrait.

Thomas was completely focused when he suddenly heard a loud rumble
coming from the opposite wall of the drawing room. He was uncertain
what was going on, so he decided to investigate further. As he
approached the wall, it suddenly began to slowly slide open, and the
sound of footsteps heading in his direction. Thomas jumped a few feet,
gasping - he knew he wasn't supposed to be in this room, but he also
needed to find a place to hide. Thomas never knew that there were
secret doors and walls in this plantation, and he didn't want to be
present to find out who or what could be coming from this particular
wall. Immediately spotting the partially open closet door, he quietly
sprinted over to the closet entrance and closed the door, but leaving a
small gap so he could at least see what was going on.

An elegant cloaked figure soon emerged from the wall, holding hands with
what appeared to be Thomas's master, Oliver Walters. Judging by the
height and vague appearance, Thomas surmised that it was most likely a
female underneath the cloak. She appeared to be holding a candelabrum
and was leading Oliver over to the large green drawing room couch on the
other side of the wall. Oliver had a very strange, blank look in his
face, and Thomas noticed his master appearing very glassy-eyed, devoid
of much emotion. Oliver sat down quietly on one side of the couch as
the cloaked figure sat on the opposite side while setting the candelabra
down. Thomas could glimpse a hint of the cloaked figure's smooth upper
leg peeking from underneath the large black velvet cloak, but was still
uncertain as to her identity.

The cloaked figure soon raised her arm and wrapped it around Oliver's
neck, pulling him closer as she whispered in a purring, seductive tone,
"Mmmmm...Monsieur Oliver, are you entranced by my sensual body and frame?"

Oliver uttered a monotone response that was drone-like and unsettling,
"Yesssss...Yessss Madame..."

Thomas's eyes widened as he heard the figure's voice. He recognized it
as none other than the Comtesse herself! But what was she doing with
Oliver, and why was she wearing that strange looking cloak?

"Very good Monsieur Oliver," continued Angelique, still completely
cloaked. She soon slowly reached over to unfasten each button of her
dark velvet black ceremonial cloak. Thomas bit his tongue as each
button came undone, exposing Angelique's creamy white flesh little by
little. Still obscured by the heaviness of the cloak, Thomas was still
lucky enough to glimpse at Angelique's smooth torso and well-toned
stomach, along with the underlying lower curvature of her magnificent
chest. Angelique soon leaned herself back as she guided Oliver's body
to climb on top of her own, both bodies occupying the full length of the
couch.

"Kiss me Monsieur Oliver," commanded Angelique. Nodding, Oliver wasted
no time and began kissing her full, blood-red lips, slipping his tongue
while Angelique's elegant arms wrapped around Oliver's backside. Thomas
could hear Oliver's gruff, lascivious moans mixed with Angelique's own
breathy reactions. He could not believe the spectacle he was
witnessing, and felt a bit betrayed. He was almost tempted to exit from
his hiding spot, but something in the back of his mind compelled him to
stay where he was and continue watching.

"Mmmm....my word Monsieur Oliver," said Angelique, breathing a bit heavy.
"Pleasure my body right now."

" Yesss...Madame," replied Oliver in a monotone voice, as he began
planting his tongue all over her smooth neck, his hands wandering over
to slip underneath Angelique's cloak, fumbling till they found her taut,
sensitive pink nipples. He began to rub his large, grimy fingers along
her areolae, pinching and squeezing her nipples back and forth, which
made Angelique cry out and bite her lower lip softly. She immediately
lowered her hood, fully revealing her beautiful face. Thomas could make
out Angelique's creamy, pale white visage as well as her hauntingly
beautiful onyx-colored eyes. She immediately closed them, leaning her
head back, continuing to react and moan to Oliver's touch. Thomas began
to feel a slow rise in his crotch but this stopped abruptly when
Angelique's eyes opened. Thomas was shocked to see that her irises had
turned a bright yellow, and her pupils had become distorted into two
very sharp, black slits. Thomas could hear a loud hissing sound,
sounding very much like a snake, as Angelique quickly blinked, her eyes
returning to their normal shape and color.

"Sacrebleu! Monsieur Oliver you actually impress me a little tonight,"
Angelique cried, as she slowly began to peel her body off of the cloak.
Within minutes Angelique's appealing and completely naked body was on
full display. Thomas shook his head in disbelief: Angelique truly was
an "angel". Her smooth, creamy pale white skin perfectly suited her
luscious 5'8" frame, but the smoothness of said skin completely was
incongruous with Angelique's reported age of 38 years; there were no
signs of wrinkles, crow's feet, laugh lines, or extraneous "meat" in her
thighs and shapely ass. Her curves were in fact quite enticing, as her
body resembled that of a young girl. Thomas had already been stimulated
by Angelique's lovely chest during her earlier visit, he was completely
flabbergasted at the large set of 38DD breasts she now possessed, which
exhibited no sag, completely buoyant, her nipples puffy and excited at
all the sensations she was receiving from Oliver's moist tongue. Thomas
noted her svelte waist, undoubtedly a curvaceous shape with widened
hips, which must have been molded and shaped by the many tight-fitting
corsets Angelique had to wear in public while on her outings to the town
square. Angelique quietly crossed her luxuriously long and supple legs,
her bare feet painted with a matching blood-red nail polish. She
shifted her entire body, leaning back in a forty-five degree angle, her
strands of soft, wavy, raven-colored hair collecting in a gentle
arrangement against her left shoulder, as she continued to savor the
kiss.

Thomas's glimpse of Angelique's completely nude body brought back the
rise in his crotch again, as it began to slowly move upwards, causing a
bit of discomfort. Angelique turned to Oliver, tilting her head and
nibbling on his ear as she whispered, "You would do anything for me,
right Monsieur?"

With no hesitation Oliver mechanically replied, "Yessss Madame. I am
yours to command."

"Good...then I want you to lick my pretty pink pussy," commanded
Angelique. Nodding, Oliver began to spread Angelique's legs, pulling
them gently apart, revealing her neatly trimmed dark pubic region as
well, as well as the wet and pink womanly flesh Angelique possessed, her
"crowning glory." Oliver hungrily complied, leaving Angelique's body,
giving her generous, ample breasts more room to heave and sway
invitingly, as he kneeled on both knees and began to lightly tease
Angelique's outer labia with an expert tongue. Angelique let her left
hand delicately trace a gentle outline around her left nipple, as her
body tensed up. She closed her eyes, letting out a breathy cry of joy,
"OOHHHHHH...Oui, that's it Monsieur, just like that...don't forget my tight
clit needs some attention too..."

Without missing a beat Oliver's two fingers and thumb located
Angelique's round, tender clit, and began to tickle and wiggle it back
and forth, sending significant shivers down Angelique's spine
erotically. Oliver added the tip of his tongue as it too wiggled and
brushed against Angelique's sensitive clit. Still within the confines
of the closet, Thomas's erection was beginning to build even more,
watching Oliver's fingers and tongue rhythmically stimulate Angelique's
womanhood...rubbing faster...and faster...with Angelique moaning louder and
louder.

Suddenly, the drawing room doors swung wide open, and another figure
entered, walking in front of Oliver and Angelique. Although it still
was difficult to distinguish, the clicking heel of his boots as well as
his height made Thomas realize that it was Lieutenant Ducard, the
officer who had brought Oliver back to the blacksmith shop earlier
today. But what was he doing here?

"My goodness Madame!" exclaimed Lieutenant Ducard, his face showing a
concerned, righteous, expression. "W-What is g-going on h-here? H-Have
you gone m-mad?"

Angelique was visibly startled by the sudden appearance of the
lieutenant. However, that same fear turned to a smug, twisted
countenance as she replied, "Right on time Lieutenant. Come join us."
She offered her hand to him as her other hand lifted a hefty, supple
breast upwards, exposing it to the dashing young lieutenant.

Thomas watched the officer's stern look fade away, changing to a
perverse smirk unbefitting a military person, as Lieutenant Ducard
quickly undid his officer's coat, and removed his hat. He unfastened
the belt containing his equipment and sword, and then kneeled over to
Angelique's side. Angelique smiled, as her left hand placed itself on
the back of Ducard's head, guiding it closer to her exposed, titillating
left breast. Cupping it with both of his hands, Ducard's tongue
proceeded to lick and suck on Angelique's left erect nipple, almost as
if he was being nursed by it. Angelique closed her eyes again and
leaned back, completely enjoying the pleasure provided by her hypnotized
male drones.

Thomas felt a mixture of weird emotions, something he had never felt
before. He could start to feel his bulge worsen into a prominent tent,
which pushed its way against his crotch. Nevertheless, despite the
discomfort he was experiencing he continued to maintain his composure.
However, nothing could have prepared him for what happened next...

The double stimulation Angelique was experiencing from Oliver and
Lieutenant Ducard was too much to bear. She closed her eyes, lifting
her head back, as her fingers gripped the surface of the couch tightly.
She cried out loudly, "Fucccckkkkk...I'm gonna cum really soon!" All of
her cultured French accent she had assumed in public could not be
detected. Her high-pitched cries synchronized with each tease of her
pussy and her breast, but Thomas was dumbfounded as those cries quickly
became lower and lower in pitch, dropping several octaves to a weirdly
deep, gruff baritone voice. Angelique's new voice was frightening to
Thomas, sounding monstrous and inhuman, and it was complemented by a
return of her menacingly evil slit eyes.

"SSSSSHHHHHHHHIIIIIITTTTT...." Angelique growled loudly in her booming
baritone, which ended with a terrifying hiss coming from her lips.
"GOOOO SUCCKK MY COOOOCCCCKKKK" she commanded to Oliver and Lieutenant
Ducard. Ducard stopped his suckling and obeyed, as he moved his body
next to Oliver's, both men waiting for something to happen. Thomas was
too, with baited breadth...

Suddenly, Thomas was horrified to see a large, thick protrusion wiggle
and push its way out of the opening to Angelique's moist vagina, forcing
it to expand and widen in size to accommodate its forceful emergence.
Thomas could also hear the grotesquely tight, squishy sounds it made
during this process; it appeared mishapen and indefinite at first, but
soon it elongated and sprouted into what Thomas recognized as a massive
8-inch dark-skinned cock, which was followed by a large pair of matching
testicles. Her nutsack was in stark contrast to her luscious, feminine
loveliness, and they were particularly moist from having been coated
with Angelique's pussy juices while hidden. Angelique chuckled deeply,
relieved that she was able to reveal her thick, juicy, pulsating member
after having been forced to keep it hidden in public. Oliver and
Lieutenant Ducard both licked their lips in anticipation.

"DAMNNNNNITT.....YESSSSSSS....I LOVE IT WHEN I CAN SHOW OFF MY BIGG
COOOCCCKKK" roared Angelique, smiling widely, and showing her perfectly
white teeth. She looked at the two men, a fiendish glint in her slit-
sized eyes. "WELLL...I'M WAITTTTINGGG...DON'T DISAPPPOINNTTT YOURR
MISSTRESSSSSSS..."

Both Oliver and Lieutenant Ducard began to flick their tongues against
Angelique's thick shaft, as her fingers continued to fondle her large,
supple breasts. Oliver was also gripping and squeezing Angelique's
testicles firmly, kneading and massaging them back and forth, causing
another ugly, menacing growl to emanate from Angelique's sweet red lips,
as she shifted her hips back and forth, now completely leaning her
entire body against the couch. Thomas could see the tip of her
terrifyingly large, throbbing cock as the visible spiderweb-like veins
around it pulsated wildly. It appeared to be almost moving
independently with the rest of Angelique's body, as it wriggled and
moved and grew slightly larger in size with each throbbing motion. The
two male drones continued to provide their undivided attention,
attempting to satiate and abate its hunger. Ducard soon brought his
lips closer to Angelique's shaft, wrapping them fully around and lightly
sucking the head, sending a flood of warm, twisted sensations all the
way down the full length of Angelique's manmeat, spreading out down into
her scrotum. He continued to lower his head, letting the entire shaft
disappear into his mouth, surprisingly without a hint of gagging. He
then bobbed his head back and forth, while stroking the base of
Angelique's cock. With all of these complex and pleasurable actions,
Angelique roared loudly, closing her eyes tightly, trying to resist the
lewd sensations she was experiencing at the moment.

Almost as if it wasn't a coincidence, Thomas was now having a REALLY
hard time maintaining his own composure, transfixed by the viciously
lustful scene taking place. He found himself breathing just about as
heavily as Angelique's own labored breaths; slipping his fingers
underneath his white breeches, Thomas began to u*********sly squeeze his
own testicles, his fingers deftly teasing the base of his own stiff
shaft. Meanwhile, Oliver's grubby, grimy hands had wrapped themselves
around the base of Angelique's own stiff meat, performing a slow,
methodical movement up and down, which further elicited a pleasurable
baritone sounding moan from the twisted noblewoman.

Angelique arched her back, trying to shift her full body weight, as her
drones continued to relentlessly suck and engulf almost the entire
length of her now 10-inch throbbing cock. Tears were beginning to form
and come out of her eyes, her evil slit-shaped pupils shrinking and
narrowing. Beads of sweat were forming and dribbling down her smooth
cheeks. Her body was beginning to betray her previously calm, seductive
appearance, as her breathing quickened. Thomas heard her growls and her
snarling voice, which sounded strangely erotic but also very demonic.
He continued to rub his own cock furiously as it gained more girth and
elevation...

"YESSSSSSSSS.....OH MY....YESSSSS...." Angelique loudly moaned, as she
chuckled in her satisfyingly evil timbre. Her delicate left hand moved
to accompany the tongues of her drones, whose slurping and sucking
sounds were mixed with their own monotone, hypnotic sounding moans of
pure unadulterated lust.

Finally, Angelique could no longer contain herself, as her sexually
stimulated body gave in to an intense, satisfyingly wicked orgasm.
Within seconds, Oliver and Lieutenant Ducard felt Angelique's cock
colliding roughly against their lips as she let out a bloodcurdling deep
roar. "AHHHHHHHHHH...........FUCKKKKKKKK......TAKE IT...DRINK ALL OF MY
SEED!!!!!" Immediately before Angelique's monstrous climax, a large
glob of sticky, white liquid spurted forth from her erect shaft with
such intense force through the narrow opening of Angelique's cock head,
gushing out like a milky white fountain. The texture and smell was so
pungent that even Thomas could sense it from inside the closet. Large
sticky load after load of Angelique's cock juice seemed to rapidly and
continuously shoot out, as Angelique's cock haphazardly spattered and
coated Oliver's and Lieutenant Ducard's faces. The two drones lapped up
every last drop dutifully, perverse grins appearing on their faces.
Angelique's beautiful body was still shaking from her full orgasm, her
bountiful breasts bobbing up and down and getting intermittently
spattered by her own warm, sticky cum.

Thomas's own breaking p