Previously in Frankengeld. Damion, Helena and the members of the Mystery Club have been attending Elodie's Literary Soiree. They have heard erotic tales, gothic monologues, and sexy poems. Afterwards Damion invited Lord Philip to test the newly created potion for Lord Mutunus - the Priapus Potion. They retire to Madam Schwartz's brothel where Philip starts with the fat Celeste. Lord Philip gives a good performance but, to her consternation, is still very hard and very erect after his first ejaculation.
Now read on ...
19th June in the year 1784, late evening.
"Fucking hell," breathed Celeste. "I suppose this means round two."
Rounds were a reference to bare-knuckle boxing, where the brutal bouts were divided into short intervals of bloody combat, separated by a minute of rest for the fighters to recover. Celeste didn't look as if she'd recovered but submitted to being placed face down, her posterior in the air. Philip gently touched the twin globes of her bottom and pushed home.
His first strokes were slow and gentle but, when this stimulation was not adequate he started to speed up.
"Doctor Damion," he said between gritted teeth. "I must cum again. I think that's the only way this unholy erection will subside. Not that the girl seems unhappy, though I would be reassured if you would converse with her, face to face."
As Philip got faster and faster, seeking that sensation all men know when the spilling of their seed is imminent, I put my notebook aside and knelt by the side of the bed.
Celeste's face was flushed and sweaty and, when she noticed me she reached out to grasp my hands as a drowning person might hold on to their rescuer. Her breath was coming in short, sharp, grunts, timed exactly to the moment Philip's thrusts were deepest.
"Are you alright, Celeste?" I asked.
"I'm ... uh ... gud ... uh ... doc ... uh ... tor," she replied. "Take ... uh ... ing ... uh ... it ... uh ... like ... uh ... I'm ... uh ... paid ... uh ... to."
"Philip," I raised my head and looked over Celeste's quivering buttocks, which were shaking with each thrust. "Hold fast for a moment, I'm finding it hard to understand her."
He stopped and Celeste took a deep breath.
"E's fucking me hard," she gasped. "But that's me job and he's not slapping, pinching or strangling me. So it's okay ... uh ... uh ... uh ... uh."
Philip had taken me at my word, he'd allowed only a moment to converse and was back thrusting, faster than before. His expression was of great concentration. I had seen that look on my own face, a year ago, in the mirrored wall of a house of ill repute in Engolstadt. In that case I had been trying to do the opposite, endevouring to hold back from ejaculating too soon, but I knew here that Philip was trying to make himself 'cum', as the English termed it.
For another thirty minutes he pounded away while I made notes, and even took the pulse of him and his partner. Celeste began to look distressed and I bent low to listen to her grunts.
"Aaah aaah nuh nuh," she moaned. Then a clear word, "Helppp."
I rushed around to Philip and put my hand on his shoulder. He stopped and looked across at me, sweat dripping from his face. I opened the door and called out.
"Madam Schwartz, please bring wine and ale, and a new girl. Celeste has done her duty."
Celeste, released from her impalement, got off the bed, slowly and cautiously. She grabbed her clothes but didn't even bother to dress before fleeing the room. I grabbed her hand, and pushed a few coins into her palm as a bonus. She stared at them, bobbed a very quick curtsy to Philip, and ran.
"Who would my Lord like next?" came Madam Schwartz's question.
I looked over at Philip. He was panting, breathless, dripping in sweat and in no condition to reply. I chose one I thought most likely to bring him to completion, "Please send in Inga, if she is available."
Bisa, the black girl, brought us a tray of drinks and I passed a goblet of wine to Philip that he hungrily consumed. I took a small glass of weak beer as I wished to keep my wits about me and make accurate observations.
Madam Schwartz appeared at the door with the tiny, slender, Inga. She was a beautiful girl, slim and delicately proportioned but with large breasts for her frame. Her skin was flawless and very pale and her hair was blonde, that on her quim was so fair it was almost invisible, making her look younger than her true years. She undid her ties and slid her dress to the floor then walked over to join Philip on the bed, looking like an ice maiden, a pagan goddess of beauty. I could not help smiling at Philip's luck, to be able to pleasure this wonder. And with me paying the bill, too.