Previously in Frankengeld. Damion and Alicia have helped the Chief of Police with his investigation into the death of 'Little Maria'. And Damion and Helena have discussed the implications of Victor's work. The next day the powder elements of the Elixir of Pleasure have been finalised and Damion has now got a sample of Priapus Potion ready for testing. Our hero attends Elodie's Literary Soiree where Lord Philip is telling an exciting story about a rainy day in England, and an indoor fox hunt. Except the vixen being chased is his muse Lady Sarah, naked, except for a fox tail trailing from a butt plug.
Now read on ...
19th June in the year 1784, early evening.
Philip, in the middle of his outrageous story of English aristocracy, got Poppy to stand up, to represent the servant girl. He gestured towards her, copying the actions described in the tale, without actually touching her. We watched, fascinated.
"Two of the guests, Harry and William, were anxious to get started. They approached the servant girl and each chose a breast. Then they fondled and kissed it, licking around the girl's nipples, in an attempt to distract her from her counting. Although she made great gasps and sighs she was not to be diverted from her duty and the count continued. Then Harry lifted the girl's skirts and pushed his hand between her legs. His fingers cupped her quim, and pressed home ... and the poor girl lost count. She went from thirty three to twenty two and, although she tried to slow her count to make up for her error, her final recital of numbers from ten down to one was much hurried as she squirmed on his fingers. When she cried out the final traditional words, 'coming, ready or not!' it was particularly apt. She clearly was."
He removed his hands from near Poppy who was so involved in the story that I feared she would expose her breasts before the crowd. She sat down and gave him a mischievous grin. He continued his tale.
"Harry was the senior in the room, the first son of a Duke, and we were all waiting upon him to start the hunt. He pushed the serving girl up against the wall, took out his member, and told us to get started. He said he would follow when he'd finished here. The servant girl, much stimulated by the hands and lips on her, looked delighted to be about to receive a noble phallus. I took Chivers' lead and we all set off down the Grand Gallery in the direction Milady had left, but Chivers, like a badly trained hound, pulled me in the opposite direction."
Philip mimed being stopped by a recalcitrant dog. Cosybo, from under one of the tables, stared at him. Perhaps he knew Philip was making jokes about his kind.
"Chivers was about fifty years old, but he must have been a strong and virile man in his youth, and even now was able to match me for strength. He said 'I am hound.' and tipped his head towards the far end of the gallery. I told him I knew that but all he did was repeat the three words, and added a few barks. I asked him if Milady had instructed them to only bark like a dog, and use this short sentence. He replied 'I am ... hound.' whilst nodding his head. It occurred to me that Milady might have done this game before, and Chivers could know something about where she might have gone. I gave my hound his head ..."
Philip caused much hilarity by going back and forth with his arm outstretched, as if being pulled along.
"Chivers took me through a servant's door and up a stair only used by the staff. We quickly came into a floor which was mostly bedrooms. The other guests had headed completely the opposite way, to the withdrawing rooms and music and games rooms. Occasionally we did see some guests with their hounds those who, I suspected, had, on arriving at the grand staircase, decided to explore the bedrooms. Lady Eleanor seemed happy just running back and forth with the footman she had been assigned, glancing down constantly at his large phallus. In one corner we found the Earl of Salisbury's wife, Henrietta, who had decided that simply looking at her hound was not sufficient and was pleasuring him with her mouth. As we passed she had taken him fully into her throat and the poor gardener was trying desperately not to ejaculate. To do so without permission was a sacking offence."
Philip grinned and took a drink.
"As I had predicted Lady Barbara had succumbed to the charms of the boots boy, Tommy. But she had not looked for a private place, or perhaps passion had overtaken her before she found somewhere. She was bent over the banister on one of the main stairs, her skirts raised and breasts swinging free, as Tommy applied considerable energy to ravishing her from behind. Her deep moans echoed around the hallway and she had a small audience of chambermaids who were giggling and egging Tommy on to greater efforts."
Philip looked at us and approached conspiratorially, he whispered, "I had always been impressed with the quality of the shine the lad could put on my shoes. It was interesting to observe that he was willing to work just as hard pleasuring this elderly woman. He will go far, I predict. At least as far as Lady Barbara's bedroom, to be sure."
"But I could not stay and watch, as entertaining as it might have been, for I desired to be the first to find Milady Fox. I told Chivers to go on and he replied 'I am hound.' which I took to mean he had a plan. I followed him to one of the guest rooms. This was empty, and had been rejected by other hunters because there was nowhere for a grown woman to hide but Chivers took me to a panel in the wall. He scratched at it and excitedly said 'I am hound! Bark! Bark!' I studied the panel, remembering a tale I had heard on a previous visit of a pair of interconnected bedrooms that had been created for when Prince George visited the house and wished to secretly visit a mistress."
"I applied my fingers to where Chivers scratched and with a click the panel opened. A short corridor took us to a grand bedroom, fit for a Prince. It was very large and, on the bed was Milady. She was breathing heavily and sweating from the run. I guessed if I'd tried to follow her the long way round I would have been just as fatigued. And my hound would have been in no fit state to do his duty with the fox."
Everyone was holding their breath in the room, knowing what was to come, anticipating Philip's words.
"I set Chivers to ravish the Fox, and blew two clear blasts on my harking horn. In the field it could be heard for a considerable distance. Here, in the mansion, it created strange echoes and I wondered if any of the other hunters would be able to use it to find us. Chivers leapt upon the bed and Milady positioned herself like a bitch, pulling her tail to one side so that it did not cover her quim. With her other hand she rubbed her crack and I could see that she was juicing up with anticipation of the pleasuring to come. Then Chivers was mounting her and barking wildly. His phallus plunged repeatedly into her cunny hole and she made sharp, high pitched, whimpering sounds as you might expect a vixen to make."
"My harking horn had done its job and, a few minutes later, the door to the main corridor burst open and William was there with his hound. He bowed to me, acknowledging that I was first at the Fox, then released his hound and blew once on his harking horn. His hound, an immensely tall footman with large feet, proved the old-wives tale that shoe size and phallus size are related. He pulled Chivers away from Milady and entered her himself. Milady screamed in delight as he penetrated her and she vigorously pushed back against his thrusts, her tail dancing upon her back."
The audience was rapt now, and some were plunging their hands under their garments. I saw one merchant with his hand in his wife's bodice while his wife, red faced and breathing heavily, pushed hers into her husband's trousers. I guessed that they would be pleasuring each other later tonight. Philip seemed to be approaching the climax of his story. His voice became quieter but more lusty in tone.
"More and more hunters arrived and their hounds were released to pleasure the Fox. Milady gave up all pretence at coupling in an animal position and accepted any athletic pose suggested to her. On top of a hound, under a hound, and then the tail was removed. This permitted more exotic positions with hounds both on top and under her at the same time. She said no words, just screams and whimpers, and in that way remained a vixen. And the hounds kept to their script, communicating with yelps and barks and the occasional, meaningful, rendition of 'I am hound'. Those hunters that had brought riding crops applied them to the buttocks of their hound if it seemed as if it was flagging. And the last hunter to arrive, Lady Barbara, followed the Boots Boy onto the grand bed and demanded that all the hounds pleasure her too."
Philip paused and looked around his audience.
"And so ... Milady kept us well entertained on a rainy afternoon," he said, winking. "And we have a lot of rainy afternoons in England."
As the applause faded away, and Philip stood beaming, everyone in our little party declared it a good start to the evening.
Elodie invited Lorenz von Arnstein, from Engolstadt to stand up next.
"The Loss of an Innocent", he boomed, to get everyone's attention, then his voice became quiet and low. We all leaned forward to hear his poem, and were captivated as he described the events of the previous evening. The happiness of the fair, the celebration of life, and then the arrival of the farmer with his dead daughter. He wrung the emotions from us and I heard Helena sniff a sob, and looked around to see her wiping a tear from her eye. The real surprise was Alicia's response as he described her in glowing terms, making her into a surrogate mother for little Maria, praising her gentle movements as she wrapped the child and pulled her to her bosom. She cried copious tears, and gratefully accepted a kerchief from Madam Minna, clutching it as the poem ran to its conclusion. Our undead friend had a caring heart, even if it no longer beat in her chest.
The mood in the room was subdued when Lorenz sat down, and many of the onlookers ordered fresh drinks, a way - I suspected - of calming their emotions that had been so expertly stirred. I looked around for the strange man I had seen earlier, and found him stood by the entrance to our area with half his body concealed behind a pillar. He wasn't looking at me, it looked like he was giving his attention to Elodie, or perhaps Lord Scunthorpe. There was something about him that was familiar ... but no, I could not place him.
Once glasses and cups were refilled, and some chat had happened, Heinrich Sonnenfels, the slim - possible Illuminati - stood and cleared his throat.
"An extract from my Perseus," he declaimed, like a second rate actor on the stage. And then, from memory alone, he set off. Madam Minna gestured for us to lean in again then whispered...
"I am told that the full poem is in three parts, and lasts nine hours! We are lucky to be given just an extract."
Heinrich was facing away at that moment and did not see our conspiratorial huddle. By the time he turned to address our part of the room we were all sat back in our seats looking suitably attentive. I was grateful that Lord Mutunus was not there as he described the petulant Perseus, annoyed at being sent to deal with Medusa, treating the whole expedition as an inconvenience, a distraction from courtly pleasures. Mutunus might have met Perseus and even Medusa. I was confident that an ancient Greek would not have sounded and behaved like a spoilt European courtier.
My gaze swept the room, and the entrance area, but I could not find the mysterious stranger. Elodie, on the other hand, was having an excellent time. She seemed to be buzzing with energy, and grasped at the hand of Erik, our host, as she listened to Heinrich's rich vocabulary. My sister is prone to getting over excited, drunk on pleasure, and sometimes regrets it the next day with her equivalent of a hangover.
Master Sonnenfels finished his piece, finally, and Elodie stood to thank him and take centre stage herself. She had a piece of paper that she unfolded with trembling hands.
"In my bed. By Elodie Frankengeld," she read.
"Here am I, in my bed,
Drapes are black, sheets are red,
Clothes are gone,
Discarded,
Like leaves in autumn, lying dead.
I lie straight, I am an I,
