Memoirs of a Voluptuary, or the Secret Life of an English Boarding School

CHAPTER VII. THE RITE OF FLORA

In the morning, we were awakened by Pierre, who brought us coffee. Owning to my presence, he preserved a modest and respectful attitude, which extracted sundry whimsical remarks from Gaston, who tried to give him a pinch. But he drew back exclaiming, “No, no, you must not; Monsieur Charles is looking at us.”

Gaston laughed loudly, crying, “What of that, Pierre? You must not take him for a simpleton. Wait till you know a little more about him.” He sprang out of bed and, rushing at me as I lay, seized my hands, saying, “Here he is Pierre. Come and have a look at him.”

Pierre frowned a reproof but was unable to repress a smile, and at last obeyed de Beaupre's injunction and came towards me.

“What is the matter with you?” continued Gaston. “Why don't you pull the clothes down?”

“Oh, but Monsieur, I could not,” he replied. “Perhaps Monsieur Charles would not like it.”

“Oh, wouldn't he? You try and see,” persisted Gaston, and thus urged, Pierre did as he was bidden. The sight of my legs, as he further uncovered them, prevailed upon him, and he no longer exhibited any hesitation but turned up my shirt, with a little laugh, and placed his hand on my cock. I curled myself up as he did so, but made no protest, and he played lingeringly with my member, finally giving it a kiss. But he then concluded that this was enough for the present and threw the covering over me again. It was a beginning, and spoke of more eventualities in the future.

By mid-day we presented ourselves at Cecil's and found him ready for us.

“We have not much time,” said Gaston. “We must be back for luncheon.”

He took us to the Couteriere he knew, who made the necessary measurements while Cecil supplied her with all the particulars he required. The confabulation was such a long one that we got a trifle impatient, but it was over at last and we all made haste back to the Faubourg St. Germain.

A day or two later, Cecil called on the Prince and told him of the invitation he had given us, merely saying, of course, that he would like us to spend the evening with him.

On the day in question we repaired to the Avenue Moche rather late in the afternoon and found Cecil impatiently awaiting us. After a pleasant hour or two, he took us to the dressing room to be attired for our parts. Maurice figured large in this scene, being assisted by Julius, whom I regarded with considerable interest, recollecting de Beaupre's account of what took place on his engagement by Monsieur. He was a decidedly pretty young man, but was scarcely calculated now to give one the impression of strict monastery breeding, for he tripped about in the liveliest manner and displayed very much less reserve in his demeanor then did Maurice.

Cecil had made the most elaborate preparations for adorning our persons. Our costumes were of the eighteenth century period, and I felt myself quite imposing when I had attired myself in a pair of white satin breeches, with white silk stockings, shoes with diamond buckles, a white brocaded waistcoat and a full skirted coat of white satin, glittering with embroidery of brilliante.

We were now ready to start, and as soon as we were notified that the carriage was at the door, we descended to the porch.

The drive was a long one, taking us right away to the farthest suburbs, but we finally passed through a gate and after going up a short private road drew up before the portico of a large stone villa. The doors were shut, but on knocking, we were admitted to the hall where our coats and Cecil's wrap were taken by a servant.

I found the exquisiteness of the surroundings to match Blackie's tales, and as we entered into the fantastic villa, I reminisced about the initial days of school when he told his colorful stories of Society X. My heart raced with excitement and intrepid anticipation, and not a little disbelief that I was actually going to be among the members of this mysterious club.

We were late arrivals and the rest of the company of young men were already assembled. They were every bit as charming and dashing as Gaston had related, only more so, for tonight, they too were dressed in full eighteenth century costumes. I smiled with satisfaction, thinking that Gaston and I outshone all the rest in plumage.

Gaston and Cecil were instantly recognized and we were soon surrounded by the smart looking young men as they kissed Gaston and Cecil on either cheek.

“May I present Charles Powerscourt,” said Cecil. “Please welcome him as my guest.”

The young men all greeted me with the greatest of friendliness, and I felt at ease almost instantly in their affectionate company.

“Now that you have come, Cecil, we will have some refreshments and thereafter the entertainments can commence,” said one young fellow with chestnut colored hair.

“But where is Sir Henry?” I whispered to Gaston. I was strongly desirous to see the great man about whom Gaston had talked at such length about.

“I am certain that he will make a grand entrance presently,” replied Gaston.

We followed Cecil to a long table where a profusion of grapes and wines and the finest cheeses had been laid out. There was soft music being played by a small orchestra in one corner of the large room, the soft, beautiful music echoing off the lovely veined marble of the floor.

As we sipped our wine, some of the members of Society X began to dance slowly with one another to the music. I was enchanted with the sight of so many young men enjoying such passionate conduct with each other so openly and liberally. I could even see from where I stood that some of the men's members were straining their breeches as their partners danced close and stroked their buttocks.

The wine began to go to my head, and I looked towards Gaston to find that his cheeks were flushed rosy with the fragrant bouquet and exciting display of so many handsome men before us. Just then the doors to the grand apartment were flung open and a man who could've been none other than Sir Henry entered the room.

I had never seen a more striking man in all my life. His shoulder length blond hair hung in loose curls about his broad shoulders. His full lips turned up at the corners in a gay smile, and his eyes! His eyes were the most electrifying color of green I had ever seen. They were positively feline, and turned up slightly at the corners giving his entire face an elegant sleek look.

The members of Society X immediately ceased their dancing to greet him.

“That is Sir Henry!” said Gaston excitedly.

“I guessed that,” I replied, never taking my eyes from the newest arrival. He too was dressed in full eighteenth century attire, and I have to admit that his costume was by far the most elaborate. Cecil and Gaston advanced to greet him, and I followed rather reluctantly.

“Come Charlie. Meet Sir Henry,” said Cecil, and quite suddenly I found myself standing in front of this extraordinary man.

“Sir Henry, I should be pleased to introduce you to Charles Powerscourt,” said Cecil.

“Charles. Welcome to our Spring celebration!” Sir Henry said, his green eyes flashing merrily. His voice was like the velvet night-time and the sound seemed to caress my being down to my very depths. He leaned forward and kissed me on either cheek. He then turned to Gaston and warmly embraced him, clearly happy to see him again. As the greetings concluded of Sir Henry's arrival, it seemed that the entertainments were to begin.

The music continued to play, and Sir Henry presently left the great hall once again only to return shortly with an especially handsome young boy in tow. I gasped with surprise to see the lad following in absolute submission totally naked as he was, wearing only a golden rope around his neck which Sir Henry lead him in by.

“Gentlemen,” announced Sir Henry, “May you take your pleasure before this living personification of the God of Love!” Sir Henry's eyes sparkled with pleasure. He led the young man to the center of the huge room and stood there on naked display for our pleasure; naked save the golden rope that still hung about his neck.

The men of Society X suddenly began removing their clothing in furious abandon. I glanced over to see that Cecil and Gaston were following the custom, and so I gleefully removed my costume as well.

The men began to surround the beautiful figure of the lad, who reminded me of the classical Adonis, and began to cast toward him offerings of roses, white, red and yellow. They bowed and kissed his feet and caressed his unmoving figure with bacchanalian abandon.

Slowly we formed a circle around this symbol of youth and beauty, and quite suddenly, I felt a hand grip my cock which had naturally sprung to attention in all this excitement. It seemed that the links of the circle were formed of a sort of human flesh chain, with the links of this fence of passion being each man who held a cock in hand. Being caught up in the fancy of this playful celebration of life, I reached next to me and found to my astonished delight, Sir Henry!

I wordlessly reached down between his legs for his cock. I saw that Sir Henry indeed had a Prince Albert ring pierced through the head of his penis, and my body thrilled with eagerness to stroke this man and give him pleasure. We began a rhythmic ritual, in which each man stroked his neighbor's cock in a mutual frenzy of delight.

My cock had been slowly on the rise since we entered the meeting place of Society X, and now in the able hands of Sir Henry, I felt as though I would positively burst with pleasure. I looked about me at this astonishing scene, and noted that many other members of Society X also had golden cock rings. From that day on, I was determined to wear one, a fantasy that eventually came to pass, but that was much later. For now I was happy to simply imagine it, and take pleasure in lightly fingering the one which ran through Sir Henry's magnificent prick. Soon enough, under Sir Henry's titillations, I felt my body growing hotter and hotter, and my muscles contracting in climactic excitement. I thrust my hips forward and just as I was about to come, a page silently appeared from seemingly nowhere and placed a chalice beneath Sir Henry's hand which still held my cock.

“Spend in the chalice, Charles,” he said to me. I was so impassioned with the dreamlike quality of the events that his voice sounded very far away, and I did as I was told, pouring my hot spunk into the cup presented to me for that use. When I opened my eyes, I saw other members of Society X doing the same thing, as young pages collected their spunk in chalices, and presented them to each man.

When the last sigh heaved through the echoing chamber of marble, Sir Henry raised his own chalice and toasted the members of Society X. He sipped from his cup, and everyone followed his example, including myself. I was surprised to find that my own spunk tasted just like all others that I had tasted. Before I had a chance to completely swallow my drink, Sir Henry leaned forward and embraced me in a passionate kiss, spilling the remaining dewy drops of his liquor into my own mouth, and drinking of my own essence with his lips and tongue. When at last we parted, I turned and saw Cecil and Gaston locked in what I guessed was a similar ritual kiss.

And then without direction, the members of Society X proceeded to approach the young man who still stood in the center of our sexual circle, a sight that no doubt gave us all a great deal of pleasure. One by one, the members began to tip their silver chalices and pour the remaining contents of their goblets onto this golden boy, coating him, veritably basting him in a sheen of dewy spend.

The men reached forward, touching each and every portion of his body, pressing the tips of their fingers into the firm flesh of his breast, the dense meat of his thighs. Glistening strands of spend would hang gingerly between their hands and his buttocks, between their tongues and his shoulders. Dozens of hands stroked his graceful neck, his gossamer hair, and his sperm-slicked body, massaging it, granting his beautiful penis no choice but to ripen and engorge.

A handsome dark-haired man, late into his thirties took our Adonis's hand and placed each and every one of the boy's fingers into his hot mouth to suck them one at a time. An older man held fast one of the golden boy's buttocks and kissed and licked it as if it were the last perfect bowl of peaches, covered with the sweetest cream. Still other men were indulging themselves in his breathtaking carnality, and they grabbed him 'round his limbs and began to bite him, nibbling at the firm beef of his breasts and sinking their teeth into the more tender flesh above his hips and 'round his belly.

They appeared set to devour this young godling alive as would a pack of starving wolves a lone fattened lamb, even as the pearly rain continued to run down his body. The men, seemingly drunk with passion, flicked about him fiercely, like souls possessed, striving with one another to smother him in their embraces as they smeared their semen over his body with their hands and lapping up the moisture with their tongues in a demonic fury of fanaticism.

I, too, moved into the orgiastic fray, along with Cecil, Gaston and Sir Henry, and within short moments, I found myself face to belly with this golden boy just as he was about to reach the height of his own ecstasy. Having taken hold of that fantastic dew covered cock, Sir Henry passed it to my mouth, and I gave it just one tremendous suck before it released a torrent of spend which sprayed my face and fell upon the lips of four other men who plunged their mouths into my immediate vicinity. Our Adonis let out an almost inaudible groan, and was quickly lost in a sea of firm and sweating bodies. As the night progressed, we were a heap of entwined manhood, indistinguishable and locked in a continual labyrinth of exquisite desire.

Somewhere during the evening, I must have passed out from intoxication. I was drunk from sexual bliss and a little too much wine. I awoke the next morning, tucked into bed at Cecil's home in Avenue Moche, and for a moment I thought the preceding events were purely figments of my dream life. But when Gaston bounded in my bedroom a little later and began to excitedly recount the evening's history with me, I realized that it had indeed occurred. It remains, until this day, one of the most significant evenings of my life.

A general breaking up followed after supper and soon Cecil, Gaston and I were ensconced in our carriage and taken back to the city.

As we were on the way, Gaston fumbled at his breeches and took out his member, holding it with his hand.