Forbidden Reading (10 page)

‘
Has your parish priest always been a perverted bastard?
’ and ‘
How much control do I have over your body?
’ or ‘
Do you truly want all those pleasures I can see in your eyes?
’ were seldom included in phrase books.

It was while the thoughts were tumbling through her mind, and as she tried to grasp the relationship she was supposed to have with the penitent, that their lips met.

Afterward Justine couldn’t recall which of them had instigated the kiss. She didn’t know if the blonde had leaned up or if she had pushed herself on top of the woman. The only thing she did know was that their bodies fitted snugly together in a passionate embrace. The flimsy sheet was pushed aside as they struggled to touch bare flesh against bare flesh. The pert breasts crushed against Justine’s chest and she was delighted to feel the scrub of pubic hairs scratching at her thigh. As their arms and legs intertwined she grew delirious with a rush of arousal that tortured her responses.

But it was the kiss that stayed with her as being the most memorable aspect of that morning in the hotel room. Even though they were hugging and touching each other with animalistic ferocity; even though they were scratching thighs, breasts and legs with their nails, squeezing, cupping and clawing with their fervency to experience each other, it was the softness of the penitent’s kiss that fixed itself in Justine’s memory. Their tongues touched, explored and tasted. The penitent’s lips slipped easily against Justine’s mouth. The only time their kiss broke was when each moved her head slightly back to gasp with satisfaction. But those moments were quickly ended as they hungrily returned to tasting each other.

It was an exchange that left Justine crippled with anticipation.

She didn’t know why that aspect of the intimacy struck her as being the most rewarding. The penitent had already introduced two fingers into the slippery folds of Justine’s pussy and was idly sliding them in and out of the dank confines. The pulse of Justine’s clitoris throbbed with an unsatisfied ache and that pace quickened each time the blonde stroked her thumb across the trembling nub of flesh.

The prospect of orgasm loomed ever closer.

Anxious to experience the woman, Justine fondled the blonde’s breasts, savouring their size and firmness. The sensation of stroking another woman was something she hadn’t enjoyed before. Admittedly, it was a fantasy she had entertained in the seclusion of her own bed but she had never taken it any further than a thrilling image designed to add to her personal pleasure. The subsequent joy of touching the blonde was more gratifying than she had ever expected.

But still, it was the kiss that struck her as being the most erotic aspect of the encounter.

The blonde squeezed a third finger into the wetness of Justine’s hole.

She worked her wrist back and forth, never using force, but all the time urging Justine to a higher plane of pleasure. The slurping squelch of her sex lips reverberated through the stillness of the room and the sound made itself heard above the pounding of adrenaline in Justine’s temples. Escalating waves promised to drown her in a sea of swelling euphoria and she couldn’t decide whether to surrender to the climax or steel herself against its tempestuous strength.

A knock on the door threatened to disturb her mood.

Like startled conspirators, she and the penitent immediately turned to stare at the door. Justine had the time to realise they both looked shocked and guilty and then she was closing her eyes against the rush of ecstasy being wrung from her sex. Continuing to enjoy each other, unmindful of whoever was trying to intrude, they carried on basking in each other’s embrace as their climaxes stole closer.

The blonde gasped beneath Justine, her pleasure evident in the depth of each breath and the sultry pout of her kiss. From the familiar tingling in the pit of her womb Justine knew her own orgasm was building to its peak. She squeezed her inner muscles around the fingers, pushed herself hard against the penitent’s hand, and waited for the surge of elation to sweep through her body.

Another knock resounded on the door.

‘Madame Justine? Are you awake? May I enter?’

The voice was heavily accented, female and young. Although it came from the other side of a closed door, Justine could picture that it belonged to a dark-haired beauty dressed in a servant’s uniform of some description. She didn’t know where the mental image came from and, before it could settle in her thoughts, she had dismissed it as she concentrated on the woman in her arms.

The penitent pressed her naked body closer. One arm was wrapped around Justine’s waist, the hand clutching Justine’s backside. Her other was between their writhing bodies with the fingers briskly plundering Justine’s cleft. Employing a delicious skill, the penitent stroked in and out of Justine’s wetness. Their kiss continued to excite with tongues touching and gliding easily against each other. Tremors began to wrack through them both, and Justine sighed as their bodies shuddered violently together.

‘Madame Justine?’

This time, rather than hearing the caller knock, Justine was aware of the distinctive sound of a key rattling inside a lock. The panic she had experienced before returned with the same brutal force but she couldn’t bring herself to end her exchange with the penitent. Thrusting herself urgently on the hand in her pussy, willing her body to broach the precipice of orgasm that she now needed to enjoy, Justine growled with satisfaction as the first rush of pleasure soared through her frame.

She was still shivering through the throes of the orgasm as she tumbled from the bed and rushed to the door to try and prevent the caller from bursting into the room. Her body wanted to languish against the sheets and savour the pleasure but modesty wouldn’t allow her to be caught in such an undignified and embarrassing position. After all the humiliation and embarrassment she had suffered the previous evening, Justine didn’t think she could endure any more shame and she surprised herself by finding the resolve to rush to the door.

Too late, she saw a maid stood in the open doorway.

Her impassive features revealed nothing. The maid returned a bunch of keys to the pocket of her tabard and studied Justine with measured indifference. ‘I am sorry to disturb you,’ she began.

Her tone was so bereft of emotion that Justine doubted there was any sincerity in the remark. Not sure she could convincingly pretend to have not heard the maid, and unwilling to offer any other explanation for not answering her call, Justine asked, ‘What do you want?’

‘Captain Sartine has requested you join him in the dining room. He’s expecting you in fifteen minutes.’ She cast a cool glance at Justine’s naked body and added, ‘Clothes have been provided for you in the wardrobe.’

‘Who is Captain Sartine?’

‘You do not know?’

‘No.’

The maid’s smile was almost vindictive. ‘Captain Sartine is the man you will be seeing in the dining room in fifteen minutes.’ Without saying anything further, she left Justine and the penitent alone.

Captain Sartine sat at the head of a long table. Justine could see he was an imposing figure and she guessed he would normally have commanded the attention of the entire room. His neatly styled hair was jet black and cropped so it bristled with military efficiency. Wearing an ice-white shirt that clung to his muscular shoulders and chest, he held himself with a regimented stiffness that made him look like an off-duty soldier. It was easy to picture him in charge of a regiment or a platoon, barking orders and revelling in his authority. Everything about him demanded that he should be considered the centre of attention.

But Justine barely glanced at him.

The room was spacious and brightly lit.

Dominated by a massive dining table beneath a glittering chandelier, the design and decor struck her as typical of contemporary French elegance. The pastel walls were broken by uncurtained windows each framing a majestic view of the Provence valley outside. An azure sky hovered above verdant fields, picturesque copses and a twisting faraway stream. If not for her assignment, Justine knew she would have spent a day admiring every nuance of the view as she sipped endless cafés au lait.

But, this morning, Justine barely blinked in that direction.

She didn’t notice the pretty and attentive maids in their black skirts, white blouses and seamed stockings; or the enthralling selection of framed Impressionists that adorned the walls.

Her attention was fixed on the couple fucking in the centre of the table.

Both of them were naked.

He was a huge man, attractive from what Justine could glimpse, although his face and upper body were hidden beneath the woman straddling him. The definition of each muscle was distinct with tension. Blessed with an athletic build, his flesh was sunbronzed and the fine blond hairs that covered him had been bleached to gold. His large hands stroked and caressed his lover with unhurried urgency.

Justine drew a slow hesitant breath and turned her attention to the slender woman straddling him. Impaled on his length, easing her hips up and down as she rode him, her sighs rose and fell with obvious enjoyment. Her waist looked spectacularly narrow – an optical illusion, Justine guessed, caused by the woman’s hips being made large through her ungainly position. Kneeling over her lover, the delicate soles of her small feet were visible beneath her buttocks. Justine could see the woman’s toes were curled tight, as though she was held by the same sensation of extreme pleasure that tormented the man she was riding.

Mesmerised by the obscene amount of pink flesh, not sure if she should be shocked, repulsed or delighted, Justine could only gawp as the pair writhed together.

‘Good morning, Justine,’ Sartine, exclaimed cheerfully. ‘Welcome to my hotel.’

She couldn’t snatch her gaze away from the couple. The man’s erection, glistening with wetness, continued to slide in and out of the woman’s sex. She could see the skin was stretched tight from the base of his shaft to the tautly wrinkled sac of his scrotum. The rest of his length was buried deep inside the split of the woman’s hole. Her pussy was a lush velvet pink. Glimpses of cerise labia peeped from the dark damp forest of dense pubic curls. Her flushed and glossy lips travelled easily up and down his erection and she moaned with languid enthusiasm.

‘The cafetière is still warm,’ Sartine said, gesturing to a small table by his side. Justine could see that aside from drinks and crockery there was also a modest selection of croissants. After all that had happened the previous day she knew she should have been hungry but, absorbed by the unexpected intimacy on display, she couldn’t bring herself to think about food or drink. She watched the couple on the table as they increased the pace of their lovemaking by a fraction of a beat.

‘Don’t they make a splendid coupling?’

Sartine could have been speaking the same words that echoed through her mind. After the sordid and unsettling events in the church Justine could only marvel over the beauty of the naked pair on the centre of the table. There was none of the disquiet she had felt as she came to terms with obeying the priest’s sacrilegious commands and the participants were perfect specimens of healthy and desirable normality. Admittedly, she could have argued that there was little normality in the pair riding each other on a dining table in the centre of a public room, while staff and guests stood around watching. But, after being used by a priest and bishop beneath statues of Mary and Jesus, Justine couldn’t bring herself to condemn the pair for their choice of location.

‘They look absolutely splendid,’ Justine whispered.

The woman turned to grace her with a warm and welcoming smile. ‘
Merci
,’ she murmured, before turning back to the man beneath her. Her hips didn’t once lose their perfect rhythm. As she turned and spoke she continued to glide up and down her lover’s long fat erection with perfect practised precision.

‘I enjoy watching all my staff,’ Sartine explained easily.

He climbed from his chair and chivalrously guided Justine into a seat. With a snap of his fingers he had summoned a maid who set about the chore of organising coffee and a couple of croissants for Justine. She was placed at the foot of the table and had the perfect view of the erection sliding in and out of the beautiful French woman. The sight was so absorbing Justine couldn’t drag her gaze away. The food and drink remained forgotten in front of her. The scents of freshly baked bread and delightfully bitter coffee were ignored as she inhaled the perfume of sweat, sex and nudity.

‘I don’t consider myself a voyeur per se,’ Sartine explained as he resumed his seat at the head of the table. He spoke as though they were involved in a hearty discussion, rather than an exchange where Justine had barely managed four coherent words. ‘But there’s something aesthetically stimulating about the human form during sex. I love to watch the rise and fall of Marie’s breasts; the tension in Pierre’s body; the beautiful union where their bodies meet; and, of course, the beauty of orgasm. I could watch them for hours, especially when the specimens involved are as stunning as this pair.’

Justine was finally able to drag her gaze away from Pierre and Marie. Even when she wasn’t looking she could still catch the scents of their warm bodies and hear the grunts and moans of their pleasure. Although she didn’t consider herself to be an expert, she thought it sounded like they were using each other with a forced slowness. The urgency of each gasp, and the wetness easing from Marie’s cleft and along Pierre’s shaft, made it clear that the couple were close to their inevitable release. Taking a deep breath, and hoping her voice sounded steady, Justine asked, ‘Do you have the manuscript, Captain Sartine?’

He laughed. ‘That’s a very direct question.’

‘I’m here to acquire a manuscript.’ She finally remembered the coffee and croissants in front of her and busied herself with them. Now that she had finally been able to snatch her gaze from Pierre and Marie she was determined not to be drawn back to the hypnotic pleasure of watching their gorgeous bodies sliding gracefully together. She swallowed a small mouthful of croissant, sipped the coffee and asked, ‘Do you have the manuscript that I’m here to acquire?’