Sapphire Rey - Seducing Miss Cecily

Cecily heard the sounds of the gathering before anything else, the laughter and muted voices carrying down the long hallway. There were a large number of people here in the Earl of Sutton’s home on this frosty winter night, and she was certain none of them were here for any reason other than outright sin and seduction. The earl’s winter house party was legendary among the ton for being the absolute height of debauchery, and one that, whether they admitted it or not, everyone secretly longed for an invitation to attend. To quote Margie, the cook’s assistant, in her rather crude manner, it was the place to fuck and be fucked.

She had heard stories, mostly from Margie and the upstairs maids at Folsom House, which was, of course, the London home of her employer, the Marquess of Longchamp, about how most of the women at the earl’s house party didn’t wear clothes and about how debauched sex acts took place in public. In public! She couldn’t imagine that kind of perversion.

Not that Cecily was a prude. Far from it. In fact, at one time, she herself had been a member of the minor peerage, her father a local baron, though never a member of the true upper crust. In those circles, talk of fucking was never far from anyone’s mind or lips, even the ladies. After all, her social circle spent a fair amount of time in the country and saw such carnal acts between animals rather often.

Not to mention that it was often said that there was little difference between a stallion with a desire to breed and an English lord when he saw a woman’s tits. So Cecily had a fair idea of the sexual appetites of the lords of society. Even if she hadn’t before, she certainly had after working for Longchamp, even for a few scant months. Still, she found it hard to believe that this kind of thing went on with regularity and that polite society as a whole turned a blind eye to the entire thing.

Then again, she mused as she was led down the corridor, if most of polite society was, in fact, inside the ballroom ahead of her, why would they acknowledge their secret sins for all the world to see? After all, if the Prince Regent himself could have more women than most men dreamed of, why shouldn’t the rest of the peerage indulge when they wished?

And indulge they did – often and without regard for who they used in the process – which was, Cecily suspected how she’d ended up here in the first place.

After only a short time in his employ, she’d grown tired of the marquess grabbing and groping her, squeezing her breasts so hard that it hurt every time he caught her alone. So she’d appealed to Folsom House’s butler, Tully, for help in securing a new position. At first, he’d looked at her oddly, then, even more strangely, asked if she was a virgin. She’d grown indignant then, but only for a moment, before looking the man in the eye and stating that she was, indeed, still an innocent.

Had she known at the time what Tully had been planning, she would have said she’d lost her virginity years ago. Instead, she’d been kidnapped and was now dressed in a corset, stockings, garters, and nothing more, blindfolded and being led down a hall towards the waiting ballroom beyond. There, she knew exactly what would happen. Tully, who apparently also worked for the earl on the side, and his “assistant” Margeaux, herself a French whore, had described it all in painfully exquisite detail.

This was the first night of the house party and all of the extremely important guests had arrived. As was customary, select members of the peerage would be given gifts for the evening, so called “party favours,” a name borrowed from that infernal Helios Club she’d been told, that they could do with as they pleased and that always ended in the innocent being fucked. Cecily, as well as the three other women and four men being led down the hall with her, were the “gifts” for this year’s celebration.

Tonight, whether she was willing or not, Cecily would be taken and fucked, solely for the amusement of a member of society. After that? She had no idea what would happen to her. Tully and the whore weren’t talking. However, Cecily couldn’t imagine that the result would be good, whatever it was. At best, she supposed she would be sold into prostitution. At worst? Left on the street to die. Considering the options, the groping at Folsom House didn’t seem quite so repugnant any longer. In fact, she’d fuck the marquess himself if it saved her from a life of whoring for sailors and the lowest dregs of mankind.

She felt a breeze brush past her face and then the warmth of the ballroom pulled her in, caressing her bare skin like a lover’s touch. A hand at her back gave her a small push, forcing her deeper into the room, and she stumbled a bit before that same hand steadied her. Beyond the blackness, she heard the rustle of fabric and felt the soft stroke of velvet across her arm. However, the voices in the room were still muted and she decided they must be behind a screen or curtain of some type. Otherwise, given the way they were dressed – the women like sluts and the men bare-chested, wearing breeches so tight that their semi-erect cocks, thanks mostly to Margeaux’s earlier ministrations, were on full display – Cecily was certain that at least someone would make a rude remark the moment they were seen. This was the ton, after all. It was unavoidable.

Then, large hands shoved her backwards and she tumbled, rather ungracefully, into a soft, high backed chair. Her legs were forcibly spread open, her feet planted wide on either side of the chair, and a voice growled low in her ear.

“Keep your legs open and that sweet little cunny of yours on display, love. Otherwise, there will be hell to pay. When someone taps you on the shoulder, you stand. Until then, you don’t move. At all.” He paused and she could smell the faint tinge of whiskey on the man’s breath. “After that, well, you’ll see for yourself.”

With that, he moved her legs a few more times until they were open to his satisfaction and sliding a finger into her cunt to see if she was wet before moving on to the next woman. Cecily was too afraid to move, even though her mind screamed at her to get up and run. But where would she go? With her wrists bound in front of her, there wasn’t much she could do, other than pull off the blindfold and run, hoping for the best. However, she had no doubt that, dressed as she was, it wouldn’t be long before she was attacked and fucked. Or worse.

No, given what she’d been told, she knew her best course of action was to remain seated and simply accept whatever happened. At least she knew she wouldn’t be beaten. Tully had told them all that Sutton chose those he bestowed gifts on very carefully, wanting to be certain that the recipient would truly appreciate the treasure they were being given for the evening. If there was even so much of a hint that the recipient would abuse their gift, the person was taken away and given to another, more worthy recipient. She would be cared for and looked after, at least in a fashion.

However, it was also clear that she was going to be fucked, whether she wanted it or not. Margeaux had said that it would be better if she was a willing participant in the sexual debauchery, and that a slap or two was tolerated if the “party favour,” as they were being called, resisted.

Then, Cecily had no more time to think about what was happening or what her fate might be. The crowd had finally quieted and before she knew it, something soft and velvet brushed by her ankles. It was, she decided, the curtain opening, especially after she heard the collective gasp from the assembled company. Obviously, the virgins on display tonight met with the group’s approval.