The Spy Wore Petticoats

Charlotte had been expecting it, but it still caught her off guard. The man was so damnably direct. On the other hand, he didn't really have to use court language. He knew well in advance she couldn't refuse.

"I would be delighted," she replied.

"Excellent. I'll have my man come around and load your baggage. You shouldn't need any servants, as my home is well staffed."

"I will need my maid," Charlotte replied quickly.

"I have several maids..."

"There are reasons I need my own maid, reasons that should come to your mind if you just think a moment," she replied diplomatically.

"Oh, of course, of course, how silly of me. It's...difficult to remember your condition sometimes," he replied awkwardly.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she replied with a laugh.

Charlotte watched as her trunks were carefully loaded. She was dressed in her traveling clothes, the thick gown, muslin petticoats and her now indispensable cloak. So attached had she become, that she had sent a letter to Baron Gosse to tell him of it and how often she thought of him when she donned it. It had taken several drafts before she could train her hand to write in a less masculine manner. Not only the penmanship, but the word choice had provided her with hours of frustration. She found it was far easier to express herself verbally than it was to retrain her hand and mind to do so in written form.

When the last of the trunks were loaded, she said goodbye to Ivan and entered the coach, along with Madame Deveraou. The doctor soon joined them and the coach began to roll.

As soon as the door was closed, the doctor's semi insane mannerisms ceased. She had come to understand he affected them intentionally. The opinion of the courtiers that he was a loon seemed to protect him from court intrigues far better than she would have imagined possible. She had long known that people who were not very bright were often the pawns in court intrigue. Or those who were too naïve to know they were but playing pieces, she thought wryly. It would seem someone as obviously handicapped as the Doctor would be a perfect foil, but Charlotte realized his persona guarded him from such abuses.

The key to his success was the fact he was so erratic. While his dementia would be attractive to a schemer, the inability to predict how he would react to any given situation made him a most dangerous tool. One could ill afford to have him blurt out the very nature of their game, even if others would be inclined to disbelieve him. It was simply too dangerous.

The revelation had come to her not long after they arrived. She had never noticed such things before, but she found her somewhat ambivalent station in Fredrick's court gave her a certain amount of autonomy that she had never enjoyed at the court of Louis. She also found she was more observant. Coupled with this was a keener appreciation of people, their words, their actions, their motives. Her awakening perceptions, coupled with the feminine perspective she had adopted, seemed to open up a world that heretofore had been obscured by her naivety.

"I am most pleased you have decided to join me," the doctor said, interrupting her meditations.

"You know as well as I, it was not by choice."

"True. I hope you will forgive me taking advantage, but you fascinate me."

"I do?"

"Yes. How long have you been carrying off this masquerade?"

"Only a few months," she replied carefully.

"Amazing. It took me over a year to perfect my own and it is obviously not as radical as yours."

"Yours is an affected demeanor. Slips are easily covered and even should you forget yourself for an entire conversation or even an entire evening, it only adds to the overall impression you are too erratic to be trusted. Should I fail to remember myself, even for a moment, the results could be catastrophic."

"So you believe the immediacy makes it easier?"

"Easier? Nay. There is nothing easy about it. Consider this; you are playing the part of a madman. Trying to place your mind in that of a madman and act as you think he should. Your audience has little or no experience with madmen. Their own perceptions aren't jaundiced with familiarity and thus your mistakes are likely to appear as just another aspect of your condition. But I? I am playing a part well known and familiar to all. Nothing I do that is inconsistent with my part will go unnoticed. I cannot just try to place my mind in a woman's; I must train myself to be a woman, in thought as well as action."

"Fascinating. Does that extend to the realm of sex?"

"I had not thought it should when this began, but if you tried to play this part for even a few days, much less months, you would realize it must. The promise of a tumble, even if unrealized, is so much a part of a woman's repertoire for survival at court. To ignore it would be to divest yourself of your most potent weapon."

"So you just promise? Or do you carry out the promise?"

"A gentleman never asks," she replied with a faint smile.

"I am no gentleman, as you have surely guessed."

"What exactly are you?" she replied, avoiding the question.

"Doctor, scientist, philosopher, madman. I wear many hats."

"Which is a clever way of saying a lot and saying nothing," she countered.

"You are extremely intelligent. That's good. Since you are, and since you are at extreme disadvantage, I shall be more forthright."

He sat for a while, staring into space before he seemed to decide what he wanted to say.

"I am a man of thought, wishing to apply my intelligence to all aspects of life. As such I repudiate religion and consider politics to be just another form of trained behavior. Society, the rules, the etiquette, even the assumptions of class and station are but contrivances to me."

"Then you dispute the divine right? The very idea that some are born to rule by god's grace?"

"There is no god. No master plan. Only the accident of birth. Even your sex is just an accident, a game of chance played by fate."

"Such thoughts are dangerous. Articulating them is almost suicidal."

"Quite. My father's money and position long protected me, but alas, I had not learned yet that being right was no shield."

"Pride goeth before the fall," Charlotte quoted.

"Indeed. Disowned, disinherited and forced to flee my native Austria, I was more convinced than ever that I was right. But I was also adrift, without even claim to a title and living on a small maintenance my brother allowed me. I was chased from London, Paris, Amsterdam, even from Istanbul. My experiments, even more than my political views, nearly cost me my life on several occasions. It was when I arrived here in Brandenburg that I hit upon being mad."

"But usefully mad?"

"Of course. I have learned much and hold significant advantage over Fredrick's other advisors. I have studied the writings of Galen and can, on occasion, save a man from illness when the finest leeches are helpless. Fredrick tolerates my...eccentricities because he knows I am able to do things his other favorites can only be amazed at. The courtiers consider me too dangerous to trust, but too erratic to cross. My titles allow me to move at court and in the right circles, to continue my experiments while giving me sufficient power to cover up my worst indescressions."

"How fortunate," Charlotte said. "Don't fall to games, mademoiselle. I am not in need of noncommittal comments."

"You must pardon me, but most men are. It is a habit I have developed, and it is difficult now to simply stop."

"Most interesting. Do you have other habits or mannerisms that have become automatic?"

Charlotte thought carefully, not only considering his question, but where this line of questioning was going. She had assumed she would be required to serve the strange man, but it seemed now his interest went beyond simple physical gratification.

"There are many that now come automatically."

"How did you learn them?"

"My sister took it upon herself to train me in them. She was a stern task master, and they were ingrained as surely as if drilled into me by a sergeant."

"Most excellent, you must tell me what they are and what method was used to teach them," he said excitedly, while removing a journal and writing board from under the seat.

When he had his quill in hand he looked expectantly at Charlotte, but she was at a loss for words.

"Where should I start?"

"At the beginning of course," he said with a smile.

"I've never seen such a strange man. You may say it's all an act Mademoiselle, and I shan't be arguing, but if you ask me, he is as mad as any nutter at Bedlam."

"Not mad, at least, not as you are thinking, but he is obsessed."

"Obsessed with sex," the maid observed as she helped Charlotte into her chemise.

"Aren't most men?" Charlotte countered with a smile.

"Ladies too," she replied, as she fetched the gown from the bed.

"Yes, ladies too."

"But his ain't about a good honest tumble."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, he's been at you day and night, but always with questions and that book he keeps. You haven't had time to walk around or met the servants. They tell some strange tales about your doctor Schneider."

"Oh?"

"Did you know he hires his men servants for their stamina and cock size? The maids take turns satisfying them while the doctor watches and writes in his book?"

"Surely they are having fun at your expense?"

"Nay, it's the truth."

"How do you know?" Charlotte asked with a smile.

"Well, comes down to it, I've tried out a couple. They are all big men, not as big as our Ivan, mind you, but plenty large enough to make a girl take pause. And they last, believe me."

Charlotte laughed then. Her maid's straightforward approach to sex left her feeling embarrassed and sometimes even envious. She had not anticipated how much she would miss it when she decided to present a chaste image at court. Ivan's great appetite had conditioned her to several bouts a day and she found herself very much missing the intimacy.

"I'm surprised none of them has gotten forward with you."

"As you said, there has been little opportunity. The doctor keeps up the interrogations for hours."

"What does he want?"

"I'm not sure," Charlotte began thoughtfully, "I think he views me as proof of a pet theory of his." "What theory?"

"He believes all that happens in the world is according to nature and all behavior is just learning. You are not my maid rather than my mistress because God willed it so; it is only because you were trained to believe you were a maid, while I was trained to believe I was a noble. To him, my situation is graphic proof that all that made me Charles was learned, just as all that makes me Charlotte is learned."

"Hogwash."

"Yes, well, he believes it and thus far it has saved me from having to submit to him. Should this night pass without an advance, I might well return to court without having to do so."

"The servants say other things, mam'zelle. I think you are quite safe from him making advances, which is not to say you are safe from advances."

"Do tell?"

Before she could answer there was a knock at the door. It turned out to be Yusef, the doctor's Moorish steward. He was an impressive man, standing head and shoulders taller than Charlotte. Not just tall, he was broad, with a heavy musculature and broad chest. He spoke little and was, therefore, more than slightly intimidating.

Charlotte had mentioned him after their arrival and the doctor had elaborated upon his history. He wasn't a Moor by birth, but a black African, sold into slavery at a very young age. He had run away, joined a pirate crew, been taken by an English man-of-war and subsequently had become a servant to the ship's captain. The captain had lost him to Doctor Schneider in a game of chance. The doctor had offered him passage back to Morocco, but he had declined and been with him ever since.

"Dinner is served, mademoiselle," he said in his deep baritone.

"Are you to be my dinner partner tonight?" Charlotte asked as Madame Deveraou handed her fan to her.

"Yes, it's my turn," he said, flashing her a toothy grin.

"Very well sir, I am ready," she replied, offering him her arm.

She glanced back at her maid to see a very concerned look on her face. Charlotte wondered what it could mean. She considered going back, but decided against it.

Yusef escorted her to her seat and then took his own across from her. The only other person at the table was the doctor, who sat alone at the head. He insisted on formal dining and insisted she take one or another of his servants as partner. Throughout the meals he observed her closely and was in the habit of stopping suddenly and jotting something down in his journal. She assumed he wished to detail those mannerisms and actions that were involved in eating like a lady.

Each of her dinner partners had been a different sort of man and required her to use different skills. The first, Sebastian the stableman, had been easy. He was a Cossack and unreformed lecher, and she had deftly turned aside his clumsy advances without ever being rude. Julius, the wine steward, was an Italian, and she had managed to feign ignorance as he absolutely mangled an explanation of the Italian dueling style.

In the end, each man was different and in each case she had found herself using a different set of skills to make the evening pleasant for herself. She was unsure of what she would find with the redoubtable steward, but the doctor quickly allayed her concerns.

"Thank you for a very instructive week, mam'zelle. Tonight I have left my journal in my study so that we might enjoy a pleasant evening without interruptions."

"I am glad to have been of service."

Dinner was very pleasant, but light, and there was a stronger, more aromatic wine served. One glass was enough to make Charlotte giddy, but Julius kept her glass full. Even sipping she found herself tipsy before the meal was done.

The meal was pleasant, the conversation stimulating and the doctor more animated than he had been on any previous evening. Yusef proved to have a good sense of humor, although he still spoke rarely. His eyes were intense and his glances meaningful. Charlotte returned them, enjoying the rather innocent game of flirting. By the time dinner was over his stares had become very intense and she found herself blushing at his frank interest.

"Well, let us adjourn to the sitting room," the doctor said.

Charlotte rose and took Yusef's arm. She noticed how muscular it was, and another of his hungry stares caused her to flush as they followed the doctor. The sitting room turned out to be two large rooms, one with a large window that looked out on the grounds. The walls were painted white and hung with only a few paintings, giving it a very open and airy feel. The only furnishings were a pair of settees and a very large and comfortable looking chair.

The doctor sat in the chair and Charlotte and Yusef sat on one of the settees. He sat close to her and she could feel the heat of his body through her gown. She could also feel the hard muscles of his legs and chest. She turned to suggest he should move over a little, but those intense eyes snared hers and she felt all tingly inside, the words dying upon her lips.

Constantine and Julius silently entered the room and stood by the settee. They said nothing, but their eyes were roving over her body in frank admiration.

Charlotte looked from one to the other, and then back to Yusef, who was smiling. She turned to the doctor and was shocked into silence.

His purple pantaloons were pushed down to his knees and he was using two fingers to lovingly stroke the smallest prick she had ever seen. His book rested on a table along with an ink well and quill.

"As you can see, Nature has conspired to make it impossible for me to ever satisfy a woman. But don't despair; these three fine men are all well endowed and well practiced. I am sure you are in for a treat at their hands, while I shall be able to observe you in that most elemental of acts." Charlotte was caught between laughter and pity. So this was why he didn't believe in God! It also explained Madame Deveraou's cryptic warnings and expression as she left the room! And why he hadn't made any advances! So many questions answered by one revelation.

The laughter died with the realization he fully expected her to have sex with all three of his servants! She realized she had no choice but to do so, and with that came humiliation deeper than she had ever felt. It was one thing to have sex with men, but to be watched was almost intolerable. And yet, what option did she have? One word from him to the king and she would be in the dungeons or worse.

She felt deep shame, but the knowledge that she had no choice was also liberating in a strange way. Since she had no choice, she wasn't constrained to act as if she did. And since these men were well used to what their master enjoyed, she wasn't in a position of having to worry about what to do.

"Please, just ignore me and carry on," the doctor encouraged.

She turned back to Yusef, to find he had already taken his prick out. It was simply beautiful, as long as Ivan's but not quite so big around. The color was as dark as his skin with a fat head that was, curiously, not covered with a foreskin. The sight of it caused a incomprehensible thing to happen.

Charlotte's humiliation and shame were somehow turned into desire, an intense desire to touch it, to taste it, to feel it in her body. She had no explanation for it and found she didn't care. She reached out hesitantly and grasped the thick shaft. It felt rougher than Ivan's, but still very smooth and warm. He was fully erect and she began to stroke it.

Charlotte found her attention centered on it. She was only vaguely aware of Julius and Constantine disrobing, even less aware of the doctor in his chair. With no prompting, she lean forward and gently kissed the purple head. It jumped and Yusef gasped, which caused her to smile.

Charlotte continued to stroke as she licked around the head. She felt her body turned and hands working the ties to her dress. In short order it was undone and she released Yusef's cock and raised her hands as Constantine and Julius removed it and her chemise. She went right back to Yusef's cock, this time sucking the head into her mouth as the other two men began to work on her petticoats.

She shifted her hips and moved her body to assist them, but she did so almost without thinking. Her full concentration was on the thick cock filling her mouth. She had the intense desire to make this man feel good, better than he ever had before. Not because she was in competition with his previous lovers, but simply because she missed the euphoria that came with proving to herself she could.

She realized she had missed Ivan's compliments far more than she missed the actual physical contact. While she had to admit she loved being fucked and the climaxes were wonderful, what she really missed was the ego boost making her partner cum brought. That feeling of accomplishment and power was so much more emotionally fulfilling than anything else she knew. The physical gratification was important to her, but it paled compared to the emotional fulfillment and internal peace that came with her partner's climax.

She had worked about half way down the length of Yusef's shaft when she felt hands impatiently pulling at her hips. Unwilling to look back, she simply allowed them to guide her. She ended up with one knee on the settee, her other foot on the floor. She realized the position that put her in, but even the foreknowledge wasn't enough to keep her from losing concentration and gagging when she felt a blunt pressure on her anus.