The Gentlemen's Club Ch. 02


That thought sent her into new depths of shame, depths that seemed deeper by the minute.

Her breathing was just returning to normal. She heard the men shuffling around but was unable to focus on anything except the buzzing between her legs, concentrated around the tiny nub she had, for as long as she could remember, so diligently ignored when bathing. Each time she bathed, she ran the wash cloth through her cleft shallowly and quickly—without causing any undue distraction.

After tonight, it was very much unclear if that could or would continue.

She had a lot of thinking to do.


The shouted words, "Dus Aliter Visum!" shocked her out of this thought and brought her crashing back to reality.

Someone had at least tossed her dress across her body, mostly covering it. As the men filed out of the room, she slid off the platform and crouched beside it, quickly slipping back into the garment.

A pair of shoes entered sight, standing in front of her. In a posture she was becoming increasingly familiar with, she rolled her eyes up and found Mr. Brown staring back down.

"Ready, Sarah?" he asked evenly, as if they were headed out for a casual dinner or to grab something at the General Store.

Without answering, Sarah stood.

"Very well, then."

Brown, Sarah in tow, headed out of The Dessert Room and through The Visum back to his waiting carriage.

It was a long, silent trip back to her tiny one room residence. All the while, she tried not to think about how wicked her acts tonight had been, how very common all those men must have thought her—

—or how undeniably, wickedly, sinfully good Mr. Winthrop had made her feel.

No wonder her father had railed so strongly against the trappings of the flesh.

It must be a sin to feel so much pleasure, in particular without her husband!


As Brown was leaving the coach, he turned and spoke for the first time since leaving The Visum: "I shall expect you tomorrow night. Dress as you see fit, for tomorrow there will be no demands or requests placed upon you."

Biting her lip, she nodded without answering.

Tomorrow, indeed.

— Home —

Home at a most indecent hour, Sarah went to great lengths to clean herself, scrubbing every inch of her body. Interestingly, her mouth felt clean, there being now no compulsion to rinse or gargle. Still, there was more than enough filth to rid herself of.

More than enough, oh yes.

Clean, she knelt by her bed, hands together in preparation for her nightly prayer. As always happened now, when she assumed this position and closed her eyes, her mind went immediately back and she was again knelt before Master Collins, his hand atop her head, easing her face down his raging manhood. She felt her lips pried apart, the bulbous pulsating head twitching against her tongue and the thick substance leaking from its tip. Before, this vision had given her nothing but outrage, followed immediately by the horror that perhaps this would always be so, that for the remainder of her days she should remember, as she knelt in prayer, her face bobbing single-mindedly up and down. Tonight, however, there was the hint of something else, the realization that what she had done, kneeling and suckling his monstrosity, had in fact brought him immense pleasure. Was his pleasure similar to her own, what she had felt this very night? It was a different question, one she hadn't considered before.

'I was a victim,' she thought, realizing that she while she knelt by her bed she still had not begun praying. 'And he… he… '

'Forced you?' another voice said in her mind. It seemed she was arguing—with herself.

'Yes, of course he did!'

'You did it on your own, he even removed his hand.'

'Yes, but… well, that is, he… '

'I'm so disappointed,' the voice replied, only now it was beginning to sound a bit deeper.

'I know. I sh— I should have… '

'On your knees, you took him in your mouth!'

'I did,' she thought, hot flashes filling her body. 'I took him in my mouth and… and sucked his… his… organ… '

There was no escaping what she was feeling now; a different sensation, to be sure, but one she had felt only hours before, a soft tingling between between her thighs.

'He told me… I was good… He gave me instruction… '

As these thoughts ran through her mind, Sarah lowered her hands slowly. No longer together, they rested on her thighs.

'Said I was… I was…'

One hand caressed her soft inner thigh, tracing small circles that moved gradually into the V between her legs. She parted them slightly, allowing a single finger to rub between the curly hairs over her mound.

"I dare say you pray very well indeed, Sarah Crutchfield."

An urgent shudder followed by a soft sigh was the only outward sign that anything had happened. Inside, however, Sarah knew: she had just given herself that which Mr. Winthrop had, a couple hours before. It was much smaller, much less impressive. In the grand scheme of things, it was barely even an orgasm, amounting to only so much as a millisecond of pleasure.

Strangely, she couldn't decide which was worse: Mr. Winthrop licking her like a lollipop in front of a large group of strange men, or touching herself and causing the same (albeit much smaller) reaction.

She very much feared it was the latter.

And she couldn't bring herself to pray.


Sarah had no explanation for what happened the next evening. Mr. Brown, dressed very plainly (though not inexpensively), came to her door personally. After escorting her to the coach (a much smaller one than usual) they rode together for full-on two hours with the windows pulled back, discussing all of the day's important issues.

It seemed she had come very far from their first meeting, when she was petrified at the thought of discussing any matter of importance with her husband, much less her husband's employer.

At a small coastal restaurant, the two of them enjoyed a tidy meal of varied seafood, everything from crab to scallops to oysters to, of course, fish. Through it all the conversation continued, flowing naturally from topic to topic.

This was Douglas, the gentlemen who cared very much what she thought.

She had to admit she was having a grand time.

The meal finished and sun set, they went back to the carriage for the long ride home, again reveling in the delights of word play. The stars were out in abundance, a thick cluster spread magnificently across the sky. There were no words to speak on this, just a mutual appreciation that in this crazy world, with all the trappings and modern conveniences, something as simple as a starlit sky could fill the heart with such wonder, and the mind with so many questions.

Having arrived, Sarah departed the carriage and walked to her door, where Douglas saw her across the threshold.

"Thank you, Douglas."

"Your very welcome, Sarah. I would like to say that my tastes do not run as most of those at The Visum do. I regret taking you there, to be brutally honest. Although," he added quickly, "your husband does blather on rather obnoxiously, if you must know."

"A man of Faith," Sarah replied knowingly. "We should all be so fortunate."

"He is certainly fortunate," Douglas said, eyes twinkling.

"Well then."

"Well then. Sarah," he said, bowing, "I hope you have a very good night's sleep. I can assure there will be no further demands or requests for you. I shall see to it personally."

"Thank you," she murmured. Of course, she had heard such assurances before, but this time she had reason to believe it was true. At any rate, she certainly hoped it was.

Her husband was due home in a few days, and she had some big plans to unfurl for him. And, perhaps, just the tiniest little request.

She couldn't help the quick pitter-patter within her breast that accompanied this thought.

That same pitter-patter sent her scurrying to bed…

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