The Oyster, Volume III

Part IV

I well recall the evening that I was first fucked by the Prince of Wales. I was chatting with my old friend Captain Marcus Woode about the events of the previous night when Lord Montmorency bustled up. 'Come on, you two,' he cried, looking anxiously at his watch. 'I've been looking everywhere for you! The Prince will be here very shortly, and we must be ready to welcome him. Everyone else is assembled in the Great Hall.' Relieved that I was beginning to feel a little more like myself again, I did as I was bade. Shortly afterwards, almost exactly on the stroke of twelve, I found myself in the exalted presence of Royalty for the first time in my life. To say that I was honoured would be an understatement. I, whose own life not so very long ago had been such a very quiet one, was almost overwhelmed by the occasion! As I curtseyed before His Royal Highness-Lady Montmorency had given us instruction on the correct mode of behaviour in the Prince's company-I felt faint with nervous trembling. But Lizzie-who as the daughter of a Lord is much more familiar with the high and mighty than I am-said afterwards that I was splendid, and acted impeccably, and that at the luncheon which almost immediately followed the presentation the Prince had asked his hostess to tell him more about me, as he was particularly struck even on so short an acquaintance by my beauty, and courtesy, and pleasant disposition, so much so that I blushed quite hotly and told her that she must be making it all up, for who would be so bold as to say such things about a little orphan-girl such as myself. But it was all true, she insisted most forcefully. We decided among ourselves that for the duration of the Prince's stay there must be no repetition of the wild debauchery which had so far been the way of things at Montmorency Castle. At all times we were in danger of discovery-a fact which nonetheless added a certain spice to proceedings-but were word to be let out that such goings-on had taken place in the presence of Royalty, then our disgrace would be swift and final. Marcus would be certain to be stripped of his command, and reduced to the ranks.

Thirkettle would lose the title he confidently expected would be his in the next Honours list; the Count and Countess of Courtstrete would very probably be forced to quit Society forever, and go and live abroad; while Lizzie and her parents-though they themselves were entirely innocent of any blame-would never live down the opprobrium that would be heaped on their heads, and the ruin of the name of one of the greatest families in the land. That afternoon the gentlemen accompanied the Prince to the butts which had been specially prepared for the Royal party, while we busied ourselves in innocent pleasures at the castle. Marcus told me at table that evening that the Prince was a capital fellow; an excellent shot, to be sure, and the owner of as fine a pair of guns as any he had ever set eyes on either in military or civilian life, but also a most companionable fellow-very ready to hand round his hip-flask, incidentally, and a fund of good stories. Now that the ice had been broken I was able to talk to him with a little less stiffness and nervousness than before, and found as we spoke for a few minutes by the fire in the Great Hall that evening that he had a ready wit and good ear for what other people had to say to him-an attribute which, I am sorry to say, is not always to be found among those whom fortune has chosen to elevate to life's higher stations. Though of scarcely more than middle height, he was quite a handsome man in my book, with lively eyes and an easy smile. 'And you are looking forward to the ball tomorrow evening, Miss Bicklah?' he asked me. 'Oh, yes indeed, your Highness. It is the social highlight of the week, and I am sure everyone is greatly honoured by your presence here.' 'You are too kind, dear girl. I do enjoy dancing a great deal, I must confess. Perhaps you would do me the honour of allowing me to mark your dance-card when it is available?

They say I am the devil at the mazurka.'' My heart almost stopped beating. 'Why, I would be honoured, your Highness,' I managed to stammer at length. 'Good! Then it is fixed then-we will dance the mazurka together. Montmorency has engaged the services of the finest musicians in all of Scotland for the evening. I suggested he do so, because after a fortnight at Balmoral one might possibly have heard the “Gay Gordons” once too often. Strictly between you and I, the sound of pipes is guaranteed to set my teeth on edge. Had Montmorency had nothing but pipers and fiddlers on hand I think I might well have made my excuses and left for London as soon as my train could be made available.' Even on so trivial a matter, I was sincerely flattered to be taken into the Prince's confidence. I was even more delighted that I should have taken the liberty, once I knew that there would a grand ball at the end of my stay in Scotland, of having a spectacular ruffled gown in black crepe de chine run up for me by Lizzie's superb dressmaker, Madamoiselle Therese, and to have the not inconsiderable fees for her work charged to Lizzie's own account. Worn with my very finest jewellery, I was sure that this was precisely the right outfit in which to make an impression on the Prince. What a pity that he would not be able to see the divine set of undergarments which Madamoiselle Therese had made up specially to go with the dress.

Though white has for so long been popular, these were exclusively in black, a fantasia of silk and lace that, when I first tried the garments on and saw my reflection in the glass, seemed the very epitome of womanly loveliness. Ah well, I reflected, if the Prince would not see them I was sure Tom or Marcus or whoever would be delighted to help me out of them when the time came. On my best behaviour, though not without a certain longing, I retired to bed a tad before eleven that evening. Truth to tell, my head still rang a little from the night before, and I was glad of an uninterrupted night's sleep. My pussey, too, had felt a little sore and inflamed-especially as a result of the double stretching I had received when spitted on the Count's prick and enculed in rear by Tom.

A night's abstinence would enable my body to make a full recovery, ready for the adventure of the morrow. By all accounts, the shooting went extremely well in the morning. The Prince was sure there were more birds than he had ever seen before on the Montmorency estate, and certainly none plumper. Lord Montmorency's careful husbandry had obviously had the desired effect. Before the sun was too high in the sky-Tom Feather told me that the deep shadows cast by the noonday sun were to be abhorred by every photographer, since out of doors they quite obscured the features when a hat was worn-a splendid series of photographs was taken, first of the Prince in the company of his Lordship and some of the more distinguished guests in the party, then of all the guns grouped together, with the morning's 'bag' before them, and finally of the entire party, ladies included, lined up on the great terrace outside the library. After that, it being such a fine day, with nary a cloud in the sky, a wonderful luncheon was enjoyed at tables set out on the lawns of Montmorency Castle. I spent the afternoon with Lizzie and Miriam-we were all on first-name terms now-and we discussed the latest fashions, and the season's taste in hats, and the best new plays in London, and all the little tittle-tattle which makes intercourse between ladies so delightful. With so many birds there for the asking, the Prince was keen to be out with guns and dogs again in the afternoon, a wish with which the gentlemen readily concurred. A high-tea in the traditional Scottish style was taken at five by those who wished to avail themselves of it-a buffet supper was to be served at the ball-and what a delightful repast it turned out to be. The species of kippered fish known, I believe, as an 'Arbroath smokie' was perfection in itself, as were the quail's eggs and the almost limitless range of cakes and other delicacies with which we were tempted. As for myself, I am afraid, I succumbed all too readily, and it was only the fear that I might so fill my stomach that I would be unable to squeeze into my new black ball gown that stopped me making an utter pig of myself.

By seven I was in my bath and by eight, freshly talcumed and scented, with my hair already dressed, I was stepping into my new black undergarments for the first time. 'My goodness me, Estelle, you look a picture,' exclaimed Lizzie, who was sitting on the edge of the bed in her underthings. 'I think, if I were a man, I would ask you to keep them on while I made love to you. I'm sure I never saw a lady attired in such a provocative way.' 'You can thank your Madamoiselle Therese for that,' I replied, flattered by her kind words. 'And perhaps I will keep them on, at least for a little while.'

'It does seem to delight the gentlemen so, does it not? Harry insists” that I keep my stockings and garters on when we are in bed together, and I am always happy to oblige.' At half-past eight we all stood in line as the Prince, with Lady Montmorency on his arm, led the way into the ballroom. The band struck up the anthem, and then Lord Montmorency made a brief speech. Then, at last, the great event was under way. My first partner, for the waltz, was Marcus, who looked most dashing in his full dress uniform. Then, for the polka, it was the turn of Tom Feather. Next came General Yardley of the clacking teeth and after that Lord Montmorency himself twirled me around the floor for a turn or two, during which I was quite convinced that his hand was deliberately placed a good deal lower on my back than is normal for a dancing partner, especially as he contrived to squeeze my bum a few times as we glided along. But he is a dear old boy nevertheless, and as generous a host as one could ever hope to be entertained by. A vigorous fox-trot followed, in which I was partnered by the Count. So energetically did he dance, that I was quite glad to regain my seat afterwards, and to refresh myself with a water-ice from the buffet. The Count sat beside me, and applauded the musicians loudly as they played a selection of popular overtures.

'Montmorency must certainly have some influence in musical circles,' he whispered in my ear, 'for some of the Empire's finest musicians are in this ballroom tonight. See, there is Goulthorpe, the oboe player, and Cripps, playing the fiddle, and is that not the great Mr. Webb himself performing on the piccolo? How strange it is, that man with so huge a physique should be able to coax such marvellous sounds from so tiny an instrument. I am sure that at times he must almost lose it in that great beard of his, and yet they say that he has no peer in Europe.' I drank some more champagne, and listened to the band, and began to feel most delightfully happy. The convivial atmosphere evidently communicated itself to everyone in the room, for even when Marcus-who is not, I am sorry to say, the most graceful of dancers-had the misfortune to propel me directly into the path of the Prince and the Countess of Courtstrete, the Prince was most insistent that it was himself who was at fault, and that he had two left feet to be sure-even though I knew him to be as elegant on the dance-floor as is a swallow in flight-and that he hoped Marcus and I would forgive him for his appalling clumsiness. 'It is the mazurka soon, is it not, Miss Bicklah?' he said as we waited for the beat. 'I have not forgotten your promise.' Round and round we went, and then there was champagne, and more dancing, and I am sure I never knew so delightful an evening. By the by I stepped out on to the terrace-it had become quite warm inside the ballroom, and I was glad to feel the cooling air on my face. I stood there breathing in great draughts of God's sweet wine when the Count came up to me once more. 'How absolutely ravishing you look tonight, my dear. I am sure I never saw you looking quite so beautiful.' 'You flatter me, Count. I was only going to say how gorgeous the Countess looks herself. She and the Prince made a fine picture as they danced the polka together.'

'They are old friends, Estelle, and have known each other many years. Once, in fact, before we were married, they were closer friends still, if you see my meaning. But what I wish to say to you now is this'-and he dropped his voice a little. 'Although we have already agreed that there should be an embargo on our amatory exploits for the duration of the Prince's visit, his Highness has discreetly suggested that, were a select group of us to desire to carry on after the ball is over in a little private entertainment of our own, he might even be favourably disposed towards joining us. Would you care to be among our private party?' A voluptuous thrill of excitement coursed through me like burning brandy. 'Of course I would,' I breathed. 'It would be an honour indeed.' 'Good. Then I will no doubt speak to you later.' Just then the waltz came to an end, and I realised it was time for me to dance the mazurka with the Prince. I dashed back inside, and found him waiting for me by the dais. 'Miss Bicklah!' he cried, his arms extended wide in greeting. 'Or may I call you Estelle now? he murmured as we took the floor (I had not the nerve to address him by his Christian name!) The band immediately struck up the tune in triple time, and we were away! Oh! how we danced! The Prince was everything I had dreamed of as a partner, leading me this way and that, holding me with a light but firm grip, until I felt myself to be mere butter in his hands. On and on the tune went, and my happiness knew no bounds. The other guests stood back to admire us as we swept by, and I even heard a smattering of applause as we executed a particularly intricate turn with perfect grace. 'You dance divinely,' I found myself murmuring in his ear, and then momentarily rebuked myself for what might seem excessive familiarity. But he seemed entirely nonplussed, and held me closer, and whispered compliments so delightfully unexpected that my whole heart melted. As I abandoned myself to his arms I could clearly feel his prick pressed firmly against me, in a manner that suggested the gesture was hardly accidental. As we rejoined our friends when the music was finally over, I had already accepted his invitation to join his private party later. The rest of the ball passed in a flurry of delightful anticipation. What kind of entertainment could be in store? I was almost beside myself with expectation, but when the Prince partnered me again for the schottische he gave no further hint. A little after midnight a select group assembled in the Prince's private chambers: the Prince, the Count and Countess, the Thirkettles, Miranda. Welsh, Lizzie, Marcus, Tom Feather and myself. I had not previously visited these rooms before; they were, so Lizzie told me, reserved for the exclusive use of Lord Montmorency's most exalted guests. In luxury and elegance they far outstripped any accommodations I had ever seen before: beneath twinkling chandeliers of pure crystal the walls were hung with the finest paintings, and the floors were draped with exotic rugs of Oriental manufacture. Champagne quickly loosened our tongues and made us forget any inhibitions we may have had concerning our situation. Nevertheless, I was more than a little taken aback when I saw the Prince and the Countess disappear into the royal bedchamber together. 'I see your wife and the Prince seem to enjoy each other's company,' I observed to the Count.

'Of course they do! He's fucked her with my blessing countless times. At the very least, it puts me in good favour with the Palace.'

'Don't you mind, Count? Are you not taking your loyalty to the Crown a little too far.' The Count laughed. 'Not a bit of it!' he exclaimed. 'Why should I mind? A woman like Miriam needs a spot of excitement to keep her in trim. Besides, the Prince knows a thing or two about satisfying a woman. He's probably got his prick in her already-he's not one to mess around-and a fine one it is too, as Miriam never ceases to tell me. Perhaps he will consent to let me watch them fuck one day.' 'Why do you think we're all here?' I asked in all innocence. 'Because the Prince likes his pick of the pretty ladies, my dear. Goodness me! That was quick! Here's Miriam now.' Visibly purring like a contented cat, the Countess emerged from the royal bedchamber and rejoined her husband. The Prince emerged shortly afterwards. 'Ladies and gentlemen!' he called, clapping his hands together. 'As my old friends will know, a visit to Montmorency Castle is never complete without our rounding off the evening with a small, intimate gathering such as this. This year I am delighted to say that we have a novel entertainment. Mr. Tom Feather, whose acquaintance I am delighted to have made during the course of my brief stay at the castle, has some splendid lantern-slides to show us which I am sure we will all enjoy enormously. If you would make yourselves comfortable, Mr. Feather will let us see some choice examples of his art.' The room was dimmed, and the beam of a lantern speared the darkness. An evening of lantern-slides? How unusual, I thought. However, my curiosity soon turned to amazement when the first slide was projected on to the wall. There was the glen by the castle, and there was I, as naked as the day I was born, with my bosom and cunney shamelessly exposed to the camera. The darkness hid my blushes, but I need not have feared for my modesty for it was followed by an image of Lizzie and Miriam licking the Count's cock.

'Capital! Capital!' cried the Prince, who was evidently delighted with what he saw. Miriam, I noticed, was sitting on his lap, with her hand inside his shirt. Next, Tom showed a sequence of pictures showing Marcus and Effie fucking, of which I had seen prints earlier in the day. 'Is that your girl, Woode?' called the Prince. 'She's a fine one, isn't she? She's a goer, all right, I'll wager! Does she enjoy a cock in her pussey?' 'She certainly does, Your Majesty,' replied Marcus, sounding slightly embarrassed. 'Don't bother with that “Your Majesty” business here, old boy! That's just for public consumption. We're all chums here, aren't we, what? My goodness, look at the size of those titties.' I now knew what kind of an evening we were in for. The Count took my hand and placed it on his cock, and I played with it through his trousers as we watched the sequence of slides. When the lights came up at the end, the Prince and the Countess were to be seen kissing passionately, without any inhibition.

This seemed to act as encouragement to the rest of us. Soon the air was filled with soft sighs. Angelica Thirkettle quickly undressed both Marcus and herself and in a trice they were fucking with gusto on the floor in front of us. Lizzie and Angelica's husband were similarly engaged elsewhere, while Miranda Welsh showed her gratitude to Tom by kneeling down in front of him and lustily sucking his sinewy cock in tribute to his talents. Not wanting to be left out, I arose up and divested myself of my ball-gown. Immediately all eyes were drawn to me as I stood there in my black underthings, which had been so lovingly crafted by Madame Theiese that they seemed to accentuate rather than hide my womanly attributes. In a trice the Count and Tom, both naked, were at my side, and I could feel their stiff pricks pressed against me through the black silk and lace of my chemise.

The Prince, too, paused in what he was doing-licking Miriam's cunt, by the look of things-to admire me in a way that I found particularly gratifying. Fixing him with a soft and wanton stare, I slowly divested myself of my finery until I stood there naked but for my black stockings and a wasp-waisted corset of similar hue.

'Here, Estelle!' called Marcus. 'Come and sit on my prick.'

He was laid down on the floor, quite naked, with his member standing up proudly as though in salute to our guest of honour. I squatted over him and made him lick my cunt while I took his prick in my mouth. Then, changing positions, I was just on the verge of impaling myself on his cock when a lewd idea struck me. 'Put it up my bum, Marcus,' I whispered. It was not easy, with Marcus lying flat, but eventually the insertion was achieved. Marcus's great prick filled my rear passage most delightfully but I was still not satisfied. Tom and Miranda were next to us and I took hold of Tom's prick while Miranda leaned over me and licked my titties, her delightful pink-tipped nipples brushing against me as she did so. I found that by stretching slightly I could also frig Mr. Thirkettle at the same time-three pricks at once, but still my appetite for recherchi eroticisms was not satisfied! While Lizzie, Miriam and Angelica amused themselves with the former's splendid ivory-shafted dildo I bade the Count straddle over me and I licked his balls and his prick stem until he was driven almost insane with desire. I could see that the Prince was watching me intently as I took the Count's cock deep into my mouth and sucked hard on its purple tip. 'My God!' cried the Prince, unable to contain his lust any longer. Tearing at his clothes and throwing them heedlessly down about him, I was at last rewarded by the sight of a member of the highest family in the land-nay, even in the world!-as naked as the day he was born. Miriam was certainly right about the royal cock: it was among the biggest I had ever seen, so long and thick that I wondered if I could take it up me even if I did not already have Marcus's splendid prick in my arse!

I parted my stocking-clad legs as wide as I could before the Prince. In a flash he was upon me, and that great royal tool was at last within me. With the light of pure lust in my eyes I frigged two cocks and sucked on a third, but my senses were all attuned to what was in my cunt. How the Prince pumped into me, and how the walls of my pussey seemed to part to allow him entry! In a delirium of lust I sucked even harder on the Count's prick, and pressed my bum wantonly against Marcus as he fucked me from beneath. The air was filled with bawdy oaths and cries of lust and longing, and I sensed that my spending was upon me. And even as I came, again and again, in a great tidal wave of pleasure I could feel the Prince's spunk shoot into me, and Marcus come boiling forth into my bum, and two more jets of spunk shoot out on to my tits even as the Count's prick seemed to shudder and convulse and deluge my mouth with spendings, which I greedily sucked down until I felt I would choke with happiness. And afterwards, when the others had retired to their separate bedchambers, the Prince and I spent the whole night together, and enjoyed every conceivable kind of eroticism, many of them so novel to me that when I awoke in the morning it seemed they were but a dream were it not for the photograph which was placed by the bedside. It had been taken by Lizzie-to whom Tom had entrusted the alchemical secrets of his the photographer's art-and the two of them had evidently been up half the night with their bottles of solution to have it ready for the Prince when he departed in the morning. In full and graphic detail, it showed the remarkable climax to our evening's enjoyment-all the more noteworthy, since Lizzie seemed to have captured the exact moment when all six of us-the Prince, the Count, Tom, Marcus, Thirkettle and myself-spent simultaneously in a crescendo of passion. I placed the print in its gilded frame back on the table by my bedside in the royal chamber. And as I lay back on pillows of the purest goose-feather my hand stole down under the bedclothes towards the still-sleeping royal phallus, which would shortly receive as delightfully rude an awakening as any it had hitherto enjoyed…