Friday Free Read: All For One (Part 4)

Today's free read concludes our naughty version of The Three Musketeers.  If you've missed any of the previous installments, you can find them here:

Athos

Porthos

Aramis 

The young creature who appeared on the steps of the Lady Di Winter’s home the next morning was a shocking sight to the servants; they had never seen the girl before, and her clothes seemed to indicate she’d be better off entering the back way, with other ladies who tended the kitchens.

She brought three men of the Musketeers—men that didn’t help the young woman’s case to be seen by the Baroness.  In the end, however, it was not a decision left to the poor servants; Milady herself descended to the foyer, to see the young girl firsthand, along with the three soldiers who accompanied her.

“Monsieur Athos,” she said, fanning herself as though a most offensive smell had caught her attention, as she looked the man over. 

“Clarisse,” Athos returned, with a stiff nod.

As she examined Porthos, the man gave her a charismatic little wink; for a brief second she even smiled back at him, before finally turning her attention to the young girl.

“And who are you?” she asked.

“Dara,” the young lady said, dropping a dutiful curtsy.  “These men thought you might be able to help me find my brother.  He has gone missing in Paris.”

“Am I now the city dog-catcher?” Milady asked, sounding almost bored.  “Is it my responsibility to foster all the strays wandering our streets?”

The girl’s face fell.

“Non, non, milady, I did not mean to offend you.”

“She’s not offended,” Athos interrupted.  “She’s merely calculating what she can get out of the situation if she helps you.”

“Well, I doubt the poor girl has anything to offer as reward,” Milady said.

“Ah, no, Milady,” Porthos said.  “But though she may not have any francs to her name, the pretty little nun has won our hearts. So we beg of you to please tell her anything you might know of a young man come to Paris for the Musketeers.”

“Nun?”

Now the Baroness seemed intrigued.  “You are a nun?”

Dara blushed.  “Oui, Milady… I have lived in the abbey for the past two years.”

A glittering, scheming light lit up the Baroness’s eyes.

“Perhaps,” she purred, “I can be moved to help one of the church.  Why don’t you come with me, to my sitting room?  Your escorts may remain here while we… discuss.”

The Baroness’s sitting room was very quiet and warm. She gestured for Dara to sit down on one of the divans and then issued a quiet instruction to another servant, closing the great mahogany doors behind him as he left.  Then Milady Di Winter crossed the room with a sashay of her skirts, coming to sit beside Dara as though they were sisters about to share a secret.

“Tell me about your brother,” the Baroness instructed, brushing aside one stray lock of Dara’s red ringlets.

“I am told we look alike, Madame,” Dara began.  “We have the same eyes and mouth, I have heard.”

“Mouth…” the Baroness murmured, letting her gaze wander appreciatively over Dara’s face.  “And does your brother have the same little freckles, Dara?”

“Worse than mine,” Dara replied with a blushing grin.

Slowly, quietly, the older woman leaned forward, until their lips were touching, and she slipped her tongue deftly past Dara’s silent gasp of surprise.

Dara straightened.  Presently, though, she acquiesced.  With a murmur of pleasure, she leaned into the embrace.

“Milady,” she said.  “What do you want of me?”

“A trifle, really,” Milady di Winter said, waving a hand.  Without saying more, she leaned forward to kiss Dara again, pressing her back against the arm of the sofa.

“Porthos said you are a nun,” the Baroness whispered.  “But are you really?”

“Of course I am!” Dara gasped.

“Athos was once my husband,” the woman said. She peppered kisses along Dara’s lips, along her slender jaw, down to her graceful neck.  Delicate hands like white birds began to unlace the cords of Dara’s dress.  “I saw the look in his eyes just now, and I can tell from the way you walked in here, even the way you sat down, that you have very recently been ridden like a broodmare.”

“Mademoiselle!” Dara gasped.

“A broodmare perhaps ridden by… three very eager stallions?”

The door creaked open. Dara struggled to free herself from Milady’s embrace and looked up to behold a young man had entered, a man perhaps only a few years older than herself.  He was a youth with fine dark hair and brooding, melancholy eyes.

“May I introduce you to Piers?” Milady said.  “One of my own eager stallions.  Perhaps if you can convince him—and me—of your plight…we may be able to help.”

“Convince you?” Dara murmured; now it was she who wore the grin, taking appreciative measure of Piers and his lean, youthful frame.  “How might I do that?”

“You are a nun,” Milady said.  “Piers is a man of the cloth, working dutifully under the Cardinal Richelieu.  And I—”

Without warning, she grasped the collar of Dara’s dress and tore it wide open down the center, exposing young, pert breasts.  Dara cried out, thrilled, and attempted to cover the stiffened peaks of her excited, eager nipples.

“I am in need of a little… salvation… myself,” Milady finished.

Piers sat down on the sofa behind Milady, slipping his hands around her waist, lowering his head to her neck.

 “Well,” Dara said. “I suppose I can think of no better way to find salvation and joy…”

Milady’s deft, delicate hands were quick to shed Dara of her simple dress; slow to caress the smooth, pale skin beneath.  She stripped Dara to the waist, running her palms across the girl’s breasts, as behind her Piers began his own slow exploration under frilly layers of skirts.

“Tell me, my little sister,” Milady murmured against Dara’s skin.  “My husband…did he claim your virtue?”

Dara laughed.  “Oh, non, mademoiselle… it was not Monsieur Athos that plucked my tender cherry.  Although I certainly wouldn’t have minded if he had.”

“Mmm,” the Baroness agreed.  Her warm hands closed over the girl’s breasts, squeezing them together as she lowered her face down to nuzzle them.  “Tell me then, what pleasures did Athos partake of with you?”

She looked up, offering Dara a scintillating, devious grin.  “Tell me the tale of the Three Musketeers, little sweetling.  Tell me everything.”

“Everything?” Dara murmured.  The Baroness’s body pressed against hers; the warm stirrings of curious arousal strummed to life between her thighs. 

“Monsieur Athos,” she began quietly, thinking back to the evening before, when she’d first laid eyes upon the handsome man in the tavern.  “I won him over with the arts of my tongue, lavishing his cock with my kisses. Had I not been so eager to taste his seed I would have let him take me, right there on the table, while the whole tavern watched him plunge into my willing flesh.”

“Oh?” Milady said sweetly.  “You like the taste of a man’s semen, do you, little nun?”

 “I do, Milady,” she said, in a hushed and excited whisper.  “I love to chase every last drop of it off his shaft.”

“I think we will be good friends,” the lady murmured mysteriously.  “And what of the other two, dear heart?  Did you pleasure them with your skilled tongue as well?”

Dara shook her head. Piers abandoned his quest beneath the lady’s skirt and began unlacing the bodice of her fine dress, stripping her down.  Dara could see the eager erection straining against his acolyte’s robes. Milady’s own hands drifted down from Dara’s breasts and slipped underneath the hem of her skirt.

“Porthos took me as a stallion takes a mare,” she recounted.   “In urgent joy. I offered myself to him like a creature in heat, and he ravished me like a beast, riding me from behind.  His companion, Aramis, shared with me a dirtier sin, showing me the exquisite pain and pleasure of sodomy.”

“Oh!” the Baroness said again with a bright laugh.  “You are quite an adventurous little nun!”

“I must be, to be indulging my pleasures here now with you,” Dara murmured.  “For I have never been intimate with a woman, Milady.”

This made the Baroness’s eyes sparkle with glee.

“Indeed,” she murmured.  “Then we shall have to begin by showing you the same pleasures you have shown to our men.”

Her hands slid down either side of Dara’s slender pink thighs, and she nudged the hem of the skirt up to her hips.  At the same time, Piers slid the Baroness’s dress from her body, leaving her in her garters and stockings. Milady shifted, tilting her hips towards the back of the sofa and lifting one white-clad leg up, over Pier’s shoulder.

As Dara watched, the young man sunk to the floor, carrying the lady’s beautiful calf with him, bringing his face close to her pretty, silken growth of hair, her gorgeous and naked mound.  She saw the young man offer up his mouth: as he kissed the Baroness’s cunt, Milady found Dara’s as well, and slid simple undergarments down.

Dara closed her eyes with a moan as the woman’s tongue found her dripping sweet cleft.

“You smell divine, little nun,” Milady whispered. Her breath warmed the soft thatch of hair upon Dara’s cunt, and Dara moaned again.

“You’ve given so much to find your brother,” Milady cooed.  “Allowed yourself to be taken by three rough, callous men—”

“No more rough than I wanted them to be,” Dara interrupted, but the Baroness lifted one hand to put a finger against her lips.  The woman shifted again, sliding her body up Dara’s, until they were once more face to face.

“Offering your body,” the woman murmured.  “Such a devoted sister…”

Dara leaned forward and kissed her.  The taste of her own juices was bitter on Milady’s lips, and Dara kissed it up, thrilled with naughty mischief.  The Baroness returned her affections happily, and she slid her hand down to the wet lips of Dara’s pussy, sliding two fingers slowly inside.

A tiny sound escaped Dara, and her whole body went tense under the Baroness’s touch.

“Yes sweetling,” Milady murmured.  “There’s a pleasure no man will ever offer you as well as I can…”

Slender fingers curled; they tickled and teased. Dara squeaked, electric with guilty pleasure, a sensation awkwardly and shamefully near to one of her bladder letting go.

“No,” she murmured giddily.  “No, don’t—”

“Oh, my beautiful girl,” Milady murmured.  “Do not resist it.”

Dara squirmed and shied.   There were hands in her hair, quite suddenly: Piers had moved from his place in the Baroness’s lap to kneel next to her, running his hands through her lovely curls and kissing the other side of her throat.

“Oh!” she murmured.  “Oh, mon Dieu!”

Her attempt at control gave way: her muscles tightened; a rush of wetness dampened her thighs as she caught her breath, excited and rosy with joy.

The Baroness smiled.  “Oh, yes.  Yes, you like that, little sister?”

“Milady,” Dara gasped happily.  “You astonish me!”

“And you will repay the favor, darling,” Milady said.  She withdrew her fingers and lifted them to Dara’s lips, letting the girl eagerly suck the sticky juices from them.  As she did, the Baroness tugged her closer, laying back against the cushions and welcoming Dara into her lap.

“Lift up that pretty little behind of yours,” she whispered.  “Let Brother Piers fill your cunny while you have a taste of me.”

Dara obeyed.  She felt Piers place his hands on her warm, round flesh and giggled as he squeezed, testing pert little cheeks.

The Baroness tugged her by the hair, directing Dara towards her glistening pink cunt.  “He will take very good care of you. If you really wish for my help in finding your brother, though, I will need you to take good care of me.”

“I will try to oblige you, Milady,” she said with a smile.

As she ducked down to take her first taste of another woman’s cunt, Dara felt the acolyte’s firm, hard shaft slip into her own.  She paused before she could think better of it, moaning as he began a slow, rhythmic thrusting, until the Baroness seized her and pulled her head down.

The taste was sudden, delicious, forbidden. The aroma of ripe pheromones sent a fresh thrill through Dara’s whole body, titillating her with glee.  Piers quickened his pace as she explored the hot, wet treasure of Milady’s pussy. The tip of her tongue probed the woman’s inner sex; she traced it along the deep, quivering canal.

“Oh, mademoiselle,” she said lustfully, licking the taste of Milady’s richness from her lips. “You are delicious.”

“I knew you would like that,” the Baroness said.  She nudged Dara’s head down again to continue;  Dara shuddered as Piers suddenly thrust himself deep into her heat.

“Oh!”

“I believe I do know where your brother may be, now that I think of it,” the Baroness murmured.  Dara raised an eyebrow. As she lowered her lips to Milady’s clitoris, she slipped her own two fingers into Milady’s hot entrance, just as the woman had done for her.

“Ah, yes, little one,” the woman whispered, voice low and husky with heat. “Mm, I have seen him. If you can make me come, I will tell you.”

Milady slipped her hands deep into the thick curls of Dara’s hair, caressing as the girl obliged her request: Dara flicked her tongue over Milady’s clitoris again, laving it as her fingers worked. She tried to match the same expert rhythm, the beautiful stroking motion the Baroness showed her, but she felt clumsy. She gasped again, startled as Piers ran his hands down her sides, tightening his grip on her waist as he thrust deeper, harder.

“Oh,” The Baroness mused.  “Are you going to come, Brother Piers?”

“Oh, yes, Milady,” Piers gasped—it was the first time he’d spoken, words raspy and thick. 

“How is her pretty quim, darling?” Milady mused.  “Is it wet, and soft, and deep enough for you?”

“Soft,” he murmured in agreement.  He plunged himself to the last sweet inch, pausing just an instant before quickly withdrawing and then plunging in again.  “Soft, and slick…so small… her cunt is so very tight...”

Dara’s quickened her fingers, fucking the Baroness’s wet cunt even as her own trembling orgasm built.  She attacked the lady’s open cleft again with her mouth, kissing and laving smooth labia, thrumming tongue against them as her fingers matched the pace of the young monk fucking her.

“Oh, yes,” Milady murmured.  “Oh… yes…”

Dara smiled, and closed her lips once more over the Baroness’ clitoris.  The woman was going to reach climax; she knew it.

 “Mon Dieu,” Piers gasped.  Dara could feel his body tightening as he reached his full; she flicked her tongue over the hot pearl of Milady’s sex as her own orgasm suddenly raced to its peak. Muscles tightened around Pier’s cock and she moaned against the Baroness’s body, gasping as each wave of bliss crested through her.

The Baroness cried out loud, grasping Dara close; Dara could feel the muscles of the woman’s quim shuddering, clutching against the invasion of her fingers as Dara slipped her tongue over and over her little pink pearl. Milady’s climax crested, as sweet juices spilled from her cleft.  At the same time, the young acolyte plunged himself deep into Dara’s own sex, bursting within her, flooding her womb with his hot, spurting seed.

***

“Milady,” Dara murmured as the three of them re-arranged themselves afterwards.  “You promised, if I could bring you to climax, you would tell me where my brother was.”

The Baroness grinned.

“Oh, dear heart, of course,” she cooed, fluffing up her skirts and tucking her hair back in place.  “Your brother has been here with me!”

Dara raised an eyebrow.  “Here, mademoiselle?  But—”

“He arrived in Paris two weeks ago most flustered and out of sorts. A bandit accosted him on the road and absconded with his belongings, including the letter recommending him to the Musketeers.  I am a charitable woman…”

This last was said with a pretty sparkle of mischief in the Baroness’s eyes.  “I offered for him to remain here with me.”

“With you,” Dara said cautiously.  “As a… house-servant?”

“Oh, non, dear,” Milady said with a wink.

She took a moment to incline her head to Piers, who had managed to re-arrange his own clothing and now waited for instructions.

“Please go find young Monsieur D’artagnan,” she said softly.  “Let him know his sister has called upon him to ask after his health and well-being.”

“Oui, mademoiselle,” Piers said quietly, before sweeping out of the room.

“You have kept my brother here,” Dara said, “as a rent-boy?”

Milady screwed up her face in mock offense.  “Never dream of it, dear heart!  We have simply enjoyed the pleasure of one another’s company!”

Another sly look.  “Just as you have with your three musketeers.”

“But why has he not sent word to my father?” she asked.  The Baroness sat back against the sofa, leaning her head on one hand and grinning like a smug cat.

“I do not know, mon fille,” she said.  “I can only suppose he has found more interesting distractions here in my house.”

Just at that moment, another knock sounded on the door to the Baroness’s study.  Dara stood as Piers entered again, bringing with him the familiar figure of her brother.  D’artagnan looked no different than when she had last seen him: handsome, jaunty and bright with a cavalier smile on his face, clean-shaven and with his hair combed.  If there was any change in him, he looked flush and healthy—as if he had just been summoned in from a vigorous horse ride across the countryside.

“Dara!” he exclaimed, crossing the study to wrap her in his big, warm embrace. 

“D’artagnan?” she asked breathlessly.  “I have been so worried about you!  We thought you might have been injured or worse!”

He waved a hand.

“Nothing to be worried about, my dear.  I was indeed set upon by robbers, but my beautiful lady has seen well to my recovery.  I decided to remain here a little longer, to… repay her for her generous hospitality!”

Dara looked from him to the Baroness.  A clear signal went between them, a secretive and naughty grin.  Then Milady turned the same expression on Dara herself, coming to her feet to join them, running one hand delicately down the back of Dara’s arm.

“Your sister is quite devoted to you, D’artagnan,” she murmured.  “She has been through very much to find you.”

“Oh, Dara,” he said with a grin.  “You needn’t have worried at all.”

“Evidently not,” Dara said, giving the Baroness a scrutinizing look.

Finally drawn by impatient curiosity, Athos and his companions appeared in the doorway to the study, eager to see what had come of their new friend and her quest to find her brother.  When their eyes fell upon D’artagnan, they each smiled knowingly—the resemblance was impossible to deny.

“Mademoiselle!” Porthos said jovially, crossing to clap one warm hand on Dara’s shoulder.  “What a happy coincidence!  I knew if anyone could tell you where your wayward relation had wandered off to, it would be Milady Di Winter!”

“Indeed,” Dara murmured with a grin.  “And all it required was a little… persistence.”

“Persistence,” the Baroness murmured.  Dara was sure that Athos and Porthos, at least, could detect the sultry suggestion in the woman’s words.

“And I think Piers appreciated your… persistence… as well,” Milady finished, giving Dara a tiny slap on the behind.

D’artagnan raised an eyebrow; his grin was a handsome, lopsided approval of sorts, and Dara blushed.

“I take it you’ve… enjoyed Paris?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, as Athos and Aramis joined their circle as well.  “Very much so.”

“More than the nunnery, I suppose?”

He winked at her as she smiled, unable to hide her quiet bliss.

“Well, little sister,” he said, giving her an affectionate little chuck under the chin.  “If you have found a… position here… that you find pleasure in, I see no reason to report to our father that you have left the abbey in Gascony.”

“Rather, I think someone ought to write to him and explain that she has brought her mission here, instead,” the Baroness suggested.  “Piers, if you would perhaps request a favor for me, from Cardinal Richelieu?”

“Absolutely, Milady,” Piers said, and disappeared once more.

“And with that taken care of,” Lady Di Winter said, clapping both Dara and D’artagnan on the shoulders.  “You should be free now to enjoy a lengthy tenure with the three Musketeers, as you wish!”

D’artagnan frowned.  “But, Milady… my father never opposed me joining their ranks!”

Di Winter smiled mischievously at him, gently pushing Dara into the circle of Athos, Porthos and Amaris, waving them along, shooing them out of the study.

“Darling D’artagnan,” she murmured.  “I wasn’t talking to you.”