Taming the Duchess de Montfort Ch. 02byHamilton_g©
One: The Next Day
Therese du Maurier, the beautiful young Duchess de Montfort, awoke with a start. In the unfamiliar surroundings it took her a while to realize where she was and how she had gotten there. She was lying on a bed, covered with a sheet. Sunlight streamed into the room through a space in the heavy curtains that covered the window. Under the sheet she was naked.
Looking around she realized it was the same room in which she had been confined when she was first brought to this place. Bits of broken pottery were still on the floor against one wall where she had smashed them in the tantrum she had had when first imprisoned. Is it possible that was only yesterday? It seemed ages ago, part of a former life, in a different world.
“Oh, bon Dieu!” she groaned as the memory of what had happened flooded back.
She had been captured by pirates – by the evil Captain Antoine Renoir and his crew. They had tortured her cruelly and forced her to submit to their depraved lust. She remembered now how they had used her in every perverted way they could devise. They had taken her in every entrance to her body and had used her as a receptacle for their vile seed. Their seed! The beautiful young noblewoman touched her face and felt the dried residue of the sperm that had covered her smooth skin. She felt filthy and defiled. A bath! She must have a bath immediately!
But another feeling tugged at her consciousness. A tickle of arousal that kissed her nipples and warmed her loins. She had given in! They had tormented her, humiliated her and degraded her in front of rough, brutal men and she had given in to her lust. She had become aroused, eagerly submitting and begging them to use her. She wanted to be possessed by them, controlled and even owned by them. Especially by Renoir. What was this power he had over her? Even now, soiled with the remnants of their lust and sore from the invasion of her body, she was excited by the memory of what she had done.
As a good Catholic girl, of noble birth and educated by nuns, she was horrified by these feelings. What was wrong with her? She had sinned terribly and must find a priest immediately to confess and seek forgiveness.
She looked around the room and saw a table with a basin and a pitcher. As she climbed out of the bed the soreness between her legs reminded her of her sins. The naked girl lifted the pitcher to find that it did indeed hold water. Too thirsty to bother looking for a cup, she drank from the rim of the pitcher, water running down her chin and dripping onto her naked breasts. It reminded her of the way the men’s hot seed had run from her mouth and dripped onto her breasts last night.
“Stop, stop!” she cried out loud, trying to chase the disturbing thoughts from her mind.
She found a towel and poured some water into the basin. Dipping one end into the water she rubbed at the dried sperm on her face, trying to clean the residue from her skin and from her thoughts. But there was more, it was all over her body, crusted on her belly and thighs. She touched her hair and felt the stiff, matted tangles of what had been her beautiful auburn tresses. It was the last indignity, and she sat down on the floor and began to sob.
While she sat there, feeling defeated and confused, there was a knock at the door. At first she didn’t respond, frightened by what they might be planning for her next and ashamed by the way she knew she must look. She quickly got up and grabbed the sheet that had been covering her on the bed and wrapped it around herself. The knock came again, this time accompanied by a voice.
“Hello? Are you there?” It was a woman’s voice, speaking English with a Spanish accent.
Therese heard a key in the lock. Then the latch rotated and the door swung open. The young Duchess blinked as the bright Caribbean sunlight streamed in, framing the woman in the doorway. She entered and closed the door behind her.
“Buenos dias,” she said, looking at Therese, who held the sheet more tightly around herself. “Are you all right?”
“Who are you?” Therese asked.
“My full name is Dona Isabella Theresa Alonzo de la Vega. But that was in my old life. You can call me Bella,” replied the young woman.
Therese noted that the dark-haired woman was about her own age, and very pretty. She was wearing a red silk blouse and black trousers with black leather boots. Held in the gold sash tied around her slender waist was a dagger. Therese thought she looked more like a pirate than a Dona.
“You are Spanish?” she asked.
“How did you get here? Are you a pirate, too?” the confused girl inquired.
“I was a noble lady, en route to meet my future husband, when our ship was captured by buccaneers. They sold me to Captain Renoir. I belong to him now.” She said this quite matter-of-factly, as if it did not disturb her at all to be the property of Renoir.
“I am Therese du Maurier, Duchess of Montfort,” the French girl said.
Suddenly remembering her condition, Therese turned her face away from Isabella.
“Don’t look at me, please. I must look like a horror,” she said, ashamed.
“But you are beautiful,” replied the Spanish girl, “and you have the most intriguing green eyes. Don’t worry, dear. You should have seen what I looked like the first time Captain Renoir and his men had their way with me.” This also was said calmly, as if the experience held no painful memories for her.
“You? They did this to you, too?”
“I’ll tell you about it sometime. I tried to fight it, but I’m afraid it was no use.”
“You mean you tried to fight them, the men?”
“Well, that, too. But I meant I tried to fight my feelings. I could not resist the pleasure I felt at being dominated and possessed by Captain Renoir and his men. The more they abused me, the more aroused I became. I ended up begging for it!” she said with a slight smile.
“I, too,” confessed the Duchess. “I’m so ashamed of myself. After everything the nuns taught me I have disgraced myself in the eyes of God. I must find a priest so that I can confess and be forgiven.”
“There are no priests on the island of Tortugas, querid, only buccaneers. You’ll have to be content with confiding in me,” Isabella replied. “For now I can only offer you more earthly assistance.”
“I’m filthy. I need a bath, and I need to use the toilet,” Therese said.
“Well, that I can certainly help you with. There is an outhouse near here. Follow me.”
A few minutes later Therese stood before Isabella wrapped in the sheet, one of her needs relieved. Isabella handed her a small pile of folded cloth.
“Put this on and I’ll take you to a place to bathe,” she said.
The Duchess dropped her sheet and pulled the white linen caftan over her head. Isabella handed her a pair of slippers, and Therese turned them over in her hand.
“These are mine,” she said, surprised.
“Yes, I recovered them from the cellar room. I thought you might want something of your own. I’m afraid there was not much left of your dress.”
Therese blushed as she remembered how the pirates had shredded her velvet sleeping gown. She slipped the shoes over her feet and followed Isabella.
Two: The Grotto
They walked for about a quarter mile, when Isabella led her through a copse of trees and they found themselves next to a sheltered pool of water. The banks were covered with thick moss, and tropical flowers clung to the rocks of a small hill that concealed the pool on the side opposite the trees.
“It is fed by a warm spring. The water has the heat of a bath,” Isabella said as she opened a cloth bag she had been carrying. Reaching in she withdrew a cream-colored cake of soap.
“It is soap,” Isabella said as she handed it to Therese. “Made from coconut oil. Very fragrant, and gentle for your skin.”
Taking the soap, Therese put it to her nose and inhaled.
“Mmm, yes it smells lovely. Thank you so much Bella. You don’t know how much I want to have a bath.”
“Yes, I think I do, dear,” the Spanish girl said as she took something else from the bag. “I have a sea sponge for you, too.”
“Oh, you are so sweet, Bella. Thank you.”
“Dinada,” Bella replied. “Now take off your robe and get in. I’ll stay and keep watch.”
Therese pulled the caftan over her head and walked into the pool, sighing as the warm water caressed her body. She ducked under the water to wet her hair and began to rub the coconut soap into her matted locks. Her hair softened and became clean as the soap did its work, and she ducked under again to rinse it off. Then she brought the cake of soap under the water and scrubbed herself until she felt clean again.
“Come get the sponge, Therese,” Isabella said as she held it out for her new friend.
“No, you come in Bella,” the French girl smiled. “Come in and wash my back and I’ll wash yours.”
Therese knew she had made a new friend, and was feeling like a schoolgirl again. Isabella hesitated, thinking she should stay on the bank to keep watch, but the warm water was so inviting she relented and began to shed her clothes. Under the blouse and trousers she wore a chemise and pantalettes, which she removed and placed on the pile of her outer clothes. On top she placed the dagger for easier access if needed, her back to the pool.
“Oh! Oh, my!” Therese exclaimed as she saw Isabella naked. The Spanish princess had intricate blue-black designs on her back and shoulder, and one on her bottom cheek. “You have…you have…” she stammered, uncertain what to say.
“They are tattoos, querida,” said Isabella as she turned to face Therese and stepped to the edge of the pool.
“Oh, my…and…and…” Therese was rendered speechless at the sight of the gold rings that Isabella wore in her pierced nipples.
“Do you like them, dear?” she said as she slid into the soothing warmth of the tropical pool.
Slipping up against Therese she took the soap from the French duchess and rubbed it on the sponge. Isabella washed Therese’s back with the coconut soap as she explained,
“Captain Renoir pierced my nipples in front of the whole crew. I never felt so dominated and possessed.”
“Did it hurt terribly?” the Duchess asked, feeling a strange tingle between her legs as she considered the idea of having her nipples pierced while the pirate crew watched.
“There was some, pain, yes,” the girl replied. “But it was good pain. And I came!”
“What?!” the Duchess exclaimed, blushing furiously at the intimate revelation.
“Indeed. I came twice, once with each piercing!” said the pretty Spanish princess with a chuckle. She added, “I had many climaxes that day, from many men.”
“Oh, Bella. I did, too. I don’t know how many times I came last night. They took me in every way. Did they do that to you?” Therese was relieved that Isabella was washing her back, so she did not have to face her while revealing her secret feelings.
“Yes, dear. They did not spare any part of my body, and I loved it. I never would have even imagined being used that way, but it was wonderful. I suppose I am truly a slave of lust in my heart,” she confessed in a whisper.
“Me too! Oh, me too!” Therese blurted, relieved to find that she was not alone in these feelings, but still conflicted admitting such sinful desires.
Isabella placed her lips near Therese’s ear and whispered,
“Are you sore, dear?”
“A little,” Therese admitted in a tiny voice, blushing even more.
“Let me help you,” the Spanish girl said as the sponge slid around to Therese’s front and caressed her breasts. As the young Duchess closed her eyes and leaned back against the Spanish noblewoman she felt the hard circles of gold in Isabella’s nipples pressing into her back.
“But it is a sin, is it not? To feel pleasure from such things, to enjoy being ravished by pirates, isn’t it a terrible sin?”
“I think not, querida. Quite the contrary. I believe that it is God’s way of helping you to endure the ravishment. You had no choice, n’est-ce pas?” she asked in Therese’s own French. “God makes you feel the pleasure so that you will not suffer. It is because he loves you.”
“Yes, I see what you mean,” Therese agreed, as Isabella’s hand moved lower, rubbing the sponge over her belly and down to her hairless mound. Under the warm water she stroked the soft sponge between Isabella thighs, causing the French girl to let out a charming little moan.
“I see they shaved you,” Bella whispered as she rubbed the sponge over Therese’s bald pussy. “I also have been shaved, and that too in front of the crew.”
No stranger to being bathed by attendants, Therese opened her legs to give Isabella better access to her tender slit.
Isabella continued, “Before sailing the Spanish Main, Captain Renoir was a pirate in the waters around Madagascar. I’ve been told by some of the other women in our enclave that it was his experience with the women of Arabia that gave him a preference for girls to be shaved like that.”
Bella pushed the sponge down between Therese’s legs and brought it up the back, delving into the deep crevice between her buttocks. Therese closed her eyes and leaned her head back on Isabella’s shoulder as her rapidly moistening pussy began to take control.
“Come, let us get out of the water. I have something special to make you feel better,” Isabella urged.
The two darling aristocrats climbed out of the pool into the warm Caribbean air. Bella took a towel from the cloth bag and the girls proceeded to pat each other dry. Isabella spread out the linen caftan and knelt on the mossy ground.
“Lie down, cherie,” she said, patting the caftan next to her. From the cloth bag she withdrew a small clay jar and removed the cork.
“What is that, Bella?” asked the Duchess.
“It is a butter made from the oil of cocoa beans, where chocolate comes from,” she answered.
Therese briefly recalled that the last time she had tasted chocolate had been on the ship Roi du Soleil, in what was now her old life.
Isabella held the jar out to Therese, who looked inside and smelled it.
“It doesn’t look like chocolate, but it does smell faintly like it.”
“It is an unguent, to soothe the skin,” said Isabella, taking back the jar and dipping her finger into the soft butter. “Lie down.”
She removed a dab of the grease and touched it to the tip of Therese’s breast, eliciting a little gasp from the auburn-haired sweetheart. Isabella rubbed the salve into Therese’s nipple and aureole, and the French girl did indeed feel it soothing the soreness in her tender nipples. Therese closed her eyes while Bella massaged her breasts.
“They placed a chain on my nipples with clamps, and pulled me around like an animal.” After a pause she continued, “God forgive me, I became aroused.”
“God does forgive you, my child,” Bella said softly, assuming the role of the nuns both girls had known as children. “Tell Sister Bella and I will make it better.”
“Oh, Sister,” Therese continued as Bella rubbed the cocoa butter into the ends of her breasts, gently rolling the rapidly hardening nipples between her fingers. “They did the most evil things to me. They put their…their…I can’t say it,” whispered the embarrassed Duchess.
“It’s all right, my child. What did they do to you? Give me your confession.”
“They put their… comment est-ce qu’on dit ‘bites’?” Therese said as she gestured toward her crotch.
“Oui, their cocks.” She pronounced it like ‘cokes.’ “They put their cocks inside me. Not just inside my sex, where God intended. They put them in my mouth, too, and I sucked them. They even took me…dans mon cul, in my bottom,” Therese buried her face in her hands, hiding from the shame she felt. “They had a kind of statuette. It looked like a Sister at prayer, but it also looked like a man’s…cock.”
“And did they put that inside you, too?”
“Yes, in my bottom and in my sex.”
“Was it terribly painful?” Isabella asked, now pulling on both of Therese’s greased nipples at the same time.
“No! That’s the worst part. It felt good! I had never experienced pleasure like that before. God help me, I begged them for more. I even begged them to take me in my behind!”
“Don’t cry, child. I told you, the pleasure is God’s way of helping you to endure your ordeal. Was this the statuette?” Isabella inquired.
Therese opened her eyes to see the Spanish girl holding what appeared to be the very same nun/dildo that Renoir had used to prepare her bottom hole for penetration.
“Mon Dieu! Yes, that’s it. How did you get it?”
“I took it from the chamber when I retrieved your slippers. I washed it and brought it along in case we needed it.”
“Needed it? What would we need it for, Sister?” asked Therese, continuing to regard Isabella as her confessor.
“For your penance, my child. I can help absolve you so that you need not feel any guilt.”
“How?” the French girl asked, her eyes on the ivory phallus.
“If there is any sin attached to what happened last night, it must be expiated by recreating the act in my presence. You must experience it again with Sister, and that will be your act of contrition.”
The young Duchess considered this. Surely Isabella would not lead her astray. It seemed reasonable to her that recreating the sinful act in a repentant manner might remove the sin. As she looked at the object, a tiny tingle between her legs convinced her that she should waste no time in cleansing her soul.
Isabella held out the erotic object and said to Therese,
“Kiss it, child. Kiss the nun and ask for forgiveness.”
The Duchess de Montfort placed her sweet lips on the top of the little nun’s head and gently kissed it.
“Forgive me Sister, I have sinned,” she said.
“What part of your flesh committed the sin?”
“My mouth, Sister,” Therese said, her eyes lowered. “And my sex. And my behind.”
“Lie down, my girl, and take this relic in your mouth the way the men took you last night. Cleanse your sins.”
Therese du Maurier opened her lips and allowed Isabella to slide the nun/dildo into her mouth, taking several inches inside.
“Now suck, cherie. Hold it yourself and suck like you did before.”
Therese lay back on the soft ground, her knees bent. She held the dildo with both hands as she moved it in and out of her mouth, just as she had sucked on the hard pirate cocks before. Looking between the girl’s open thighs, Isabella saw her sweet pussy glistening with wetness. The hairless lips were parted, and a tiny trickle of juice ran down to her pink, puckered anus. At the top of her slit the lovely little nub of her clit was erect and protruding from its hood. Isabella dipped her fingers into the jar of cocoa butter and scooped out a generous dollop. Therese moaned around the dildo as Bella spread the ointment over her shaved mound and along the plump outer lips. The Spanish girl rubbed gently, her fingers tracing along the wet slit and rolling the sensitive clit button around in circles. Therese was trembling, holding her legs apart to allow Isabella full access to her gushing pussy as her dildo-sucking became more urgent.
Isabella placed her lips on Therese’s belly and trailed kisses down over her hairless mound and onto the cocoa-buttered labia. She kissed along the leaking slit and brushed the tip of her tongue over the erect little clit, licking the twitching nub of pleasure and drawing moans and whimpers from the aroused Duchess. Therese had never had her pussy licked before, and Isabella’s tongue was driving her mad.
After a few minutes of the exquisite torture, Isabella took the dildo from Therese and slid it down the girl’s naked body, stopping to rub the head around on her greased nipples before trailing it over her belly to her spread crotch. She teased the young Duchess by rubbing it over her hairless mound and along the leaking slit. She gently kissed Therese on her panting mouth, and the French girl tasted herself on Isabella’s lips.