Libertinage (closed)

[Lady_Mornington]

"Blessed Virgin..."

Eugénie, Comtesse de Chantonnay, was kneeling on the hard wooden floor of her chamber. Her eyes fixed to the Crucifix on the wall, praying with a fervour that would have surprised anyone who wasn't acquainted with the young woman prostrate on the floor.

For Eugénie was first and foremost a devout Catholic, her love of the Blessed Virgin pure and undiluted, and the one fixed point in her life. The prayers she uttered now went out to her country. France had been harried by civil unrest, and it seemed to Eugénie that the events had reached the crux. His Majesty had had to convene the Estates General. Her brother, François, had gone to Versaille, seeing as he was the head of the de Chantonnay family on the deaths of their father and older brother Charles.

"Forgive my..."

She didn't hate François nor her sister Juliette, yet the sin they had brought into the house almost made her physically sick. Once the Chateau de Chantonnay had been filled with happiness, but it had all changed now. François was not, she decided, a good man. He had left the Seminar, and he had expressively forbidden her to join the Carmelite Sisters. Eugénie felt tears burning in the corners of her eyes as she recalled the argument. François would not tolerate that she devoted her life to Christ. God did not exist, he claimed. The words having felt like knifes driving into her body. She had tried to stand her ground but to no avail. François would never allow her to become a nun.

"Give me strenght to love my brother..."

Eugénie had heard his sentiments, about the Holy Catholic Church, the Monarchy and the morals of society. François seemed so utterly full of contempt for everything that they had been brought up to cherish. He hated the Church, he despised the Monarch and as for social convention; he had made it his mission to break as often as he could.

"See in mercy to Juliette..."

Her sister, Juliette, once a girl filled with compassion now seemed to have become as influenced by the evil times as ever François. She blatantly ridiculed the Church with much the same scorn as did François. Eugénie had prayed for her, argued with her, cried but nothing would change her mind. Further, it seemed that the once gentle and loving girl had given way to a sadistic woman. Only today Eugénie had received the flat of her hand for one transgression or other. It really did not matter how she behaved, the result was always the same. Ridicule, humiliation and punishment.

"Preserve them in their grace..."

The worst part however, the one that Eugénie scarcely dared contemplate was the fact that her siblings shared an abominable bond. She had seen how François had kissed Juliette, not the way a brother is supposed to kiss his sister, and she had watched her reciprocate, flaunting her own lust as she did. Eugénie knew that their souls would forever be punished for their hideous crime, thus her prayers had become more intense. Praying for their salvation, for the deliverance of the evils that had befallen France, and for herself.

 

[qerasija]

The Comte de Chantonnay was in the library, the books piled high on the desk. His quill scratched a letter to Philippe Égalité. Jacques Antoine Marie de Cazalès and Jean-Sifrein Maury, Cardinal of Paris, would, as usual, need to be outmanoeuvred. He had some thoughts on the matter.

On the floor by his boot, were two bottles, one of Armagnac and the second of laudanum. As he was in private, he felt no compunction about drinking directly from the bottles. The alcohol was an old friend, the tincture of opium a more recent acquaintance. The laudanum made him happier than anything excepting his role as the instrument of the God who was not there.

François had taken a deep draught and started on the second page of his letter when the tapping on the door caused his hand to slip. The ink made a splotch on the paper.

'Entrez,' he said, imperiously. It was his sister Juliette, as he knew it would be. She was dressed only in her dressing gown. When she had shut the door, she was no longer dressed in the dressing gown, and indeed no longer dressed at all. She had conveyed the implement he had asked her to bring.

François glanced at her once and pointed to the floor in front of the desk. She took his meaning and knelt on the carpet, one that had seen better years. Her head bent at the neck.

He sprinkled sand on the paper to blot out the ink, but it was too late. The splotch had grown. The letter would need a fair copy. He could attend to that later. For the nonce, Juliette would need to be punished for his carelessness.

His boots made a heavy tread on the floor as he stepped behind Juliette. The implement lay across her thighs, which were closer together than they should have been.

 

[MelancholyBaby]

Juliette

Juliette’s long, black curls partially obscured her face as she knelt, her body offered silently to her brother. She noticed the empty bottles on the floor, a bit disappointed that he had not consumed them with her. Still, being the beneficiary of the effects they had on his body and mind, she was contented. Perhaps he would share next time.

She had never vied for a man’s attention and lust more so than with her brother, François. There was no greater ecstasy than his hands digging into her flesh, bruising and scratching her; his lips and teeth; the look of amusement in his eyes while he toyed with her. It was infinitely satisfying and precious to her. Those days when he was away from the estate were her darkest. She had taken lovers to pass the time, but none could begin to fill the bootprints of her brother.

Her eyes were fixed on the riding crop that she had placed on her thighs. It had belonged to their brother, Charles. After his death Eugénie had taken it as her own, a memento of the brother she had loved so dearly. If only her dear sister knew where her precious crop was now. Juliette’s lips curved into a smug smile.

She was aware of her brother stepping behind her; she could hear him and smell the leather of his boots. She loved the smell of leather. It reminded her of François. Juliette hoped he would be pleased with her. She hoped he would notice the specific crop that she had brought to him to use on her. The scratch on her chest itched, reminding her of events of the day before yesterday. Juliette shivered as she wondered if tonight’s activities would leave similar mementos on her body.

It had not always been this way. The first time François left marks on her body she had wept and cursed him and avoided him for days. But he was her brother, and she was willing to endure these things for his love and happiness. In time she came to enjoy the pain for the obvious pleasure it brought to him.

He bent over her and picked up the crop by the handle and then inserted it between her thighs, urging them farther apart. Juliette hurriedly complied, feeling herself grow moist from the cool air that now more insistently caressed her sex. He continued to move until her thighs were where they ought to be. He then slapped each inner thigh twice with the crop to remind her of how she should position herself from then on.

Juliette flinched as she felt the sharp sting of the crop on her sensitive flesh, her hands instinctively flying from their position behind her back to rest on her thighs. This wouldn’t do. She felt François’ large hands grab hers, pulling them behind her back and tying them together.

 

[qerasija]

Le Comte de Chantonnay

François liked Juliette best when she was most powerless. He knotted the sash of the dressing gown tightly about her wrists, then made a circuit of his prisoner. The riding crop, he tapped on her shoulder, her hip, the face of her thigh. There was no pattern to the strikes. He liked to keep her guessing. The swish the rod made as it slashed through the air was satisfying. The screams that Juliette could not suppress were still more satisfying. The welts left on the impact, these endowed his visage with a predatory gleam. He decided that he liked the heft and balance of the crop as he knelt before Juliette even as he recognised that it had once belonged to Charles. Perhaps he would one day bring Eugénie to answer with it.

François dropped to one knee. His hand found the refuge of her inner legs, the warmth where they touched. He moistened his fingers there, clasped the skin with them, and twisted.

Juliette winced in pain. She clenched her teeth, and when that didn't help, she shrieked.

François spat in her face. The expectorate landed below her eye and fell along the bridge of her nose. With a fierce tug of the hair, he tilted her head backward and kissed her with a purpose. His tongue was at home again and expansive in its possession of her mouth. His teeth were violent on the exposed throat. His hands were talons on her chest. The nails scarred the skin. He would have their tips reddened with blood before he finished.

But that was for later.

He stood. The sun was low in the sky, and the room abided in half darkness. The family fortunes had so declined because of the incompetence of Charles and his father that it was only in this crepuscular twilight that the library looked dignified.

François noticed the long shadow he cast on the near wall. He observed the smallness of Juliette before him. She panted for her breath at his feet. He imagined Eugénie would be smaller still. What sounds would she make?

He lifted one leg and balanced his boot on her shoulder. When François kicked, Juliette toppled. His legs prised hers apart. Hands unthreaded his belt.

'Is tonight the night?' he demanded.

 

[MelancholyBaby]

Juliette

François could have only meant one thing.

He didn’t wait for her to answer before entering her in one fluid motion, a savage thrust that placed him all the way inside her. Juliette shrieked as the weight of his body drove her into the floor, crushing her arms which were still secured behind her back. The force of his thrust bruised her internally and she felt tears come to her eyes, trickling down her cheek and nose, mingling with the traces of expectorate that he had bestowed upon her before.

“Eugénie,” she managed weakly as François began driving in and out of her, forceful thrusts that shook her entire body. “Is it,” she gasped and winced as he continued to move within her, “her turn..tonight?” Juliette tried to roll a bit to her side to momentarily ease some of the pain in her arms but she was sharply corrected. Her brother’s hands closed around her neck and near her collarbone, holding her down and still as he continued his assault.

She felt her body respond, spreading her thighs apart a bit to allow him greater access. Satisfied that she would not move again, François’ hand made its way to Juliette’s breast, pinching and tugging it savagely; finally letting go and slapping it. She cried out as the slap stung the already tender flesh. She felt his eyes staring into hers, aware that she had not fully answered his question.

She would not make him ask again. “Yes,” she affirmed. “Tonight.” She was rewarded with his lips on her neck, his teeth biting into her soft flesh. She arched her neck, giving him more access as he devoured it, mercilessly biting down on her offered flesh. François propped himself up with one hand as he continued his savage thrusts while the other snuck between their bodies and pinched the swollen bud hidden between her thighs. She cried out, wrapping her legs around him as she felt her body grow close to her climax.

Juliette groaned as his thrusts slowed a bit, while retaining their force. She caught her breath quickly. “Give me some time to prepare her.” She could already feel and hear Eugénie’s resistance. It would not be easy. But there was something in Juliette that made her long to make her little sister another toy for her brother. Only Eugénie would be her toy to share, a beautiful little specimen stripped of the innocence and righteousness that dripped from every pore on her body. She would be Juliette’s as Juliette was François’. The thought excited her and she clenched the muscles of her sex around her brother, urging him to continue to amuse himself with her.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Eugénie

"In nomine Patri et Fili et Spritus Sacti. Amen"

Eugénie's limbs were numb from having stayed so long on the floor, yet she paid it no heed, it was a small price to pay for adhering to the discipline of the Church. She fervently wished that François would reconsider about the Carmelite Sisters. Eugénie had wanted to join the order since she was a little girl. The serene beauty of devoting one's life to the service of the Blessed Virgin and Christ. The notion that she'd one day be one among them almost bringing tears to her eyes.

Papa and Charles had always encouraged her faith and devotion. She recalled how Papa had used to tell her that she'd be the first Saint of the de Chantonnay family, making her blush as he did. Eugénie would never aspire to Sainthood, she was much to humble a person to ever think herself amounting to anything but the role of a nun. During her youth she had shunned the games her siblings had taken part in, prefering the company of Mama and to the teachings of their chaplain. It was Father Reynard who had hinted that she'd make an excellent nun, planting the idea in the then seven year old Eugénie's mind. It had been her one true calling and perhaps it was the reason why she abhorred François, since he had been given the chance to become a man of the cloth.

Curled up in bed she once again found herself praying. Praying that the Blessed Virgin would make her brother see sense. To return to the flock, to make the confession of his sins and to receive the absolution. She prayed for Juliette, wishing she'd be the good sister she once was. Praying silently for her family. For their salvation.

 

[qerasija]

Le Comte de Chantonnay

Juliette's cheek flushed pink when he cuffed the side of her face with the backside of his hand. Her skin coloured red when he positioned his hands around her slender neck and squeezed. Her mouth fell open, and her breath came to her in gasps. He stopped her lips with his. His tongue sought the edges of her jaw. The fingers that sank into her throat would leave marks on the skin, he knew. The whimpering sounds she emitted were almost the same as when he ducked her head in a tub of water and forced her to keep her breath. The air he apportioned to her in intervals was what kept her from drowning. He imagined that he could snap Juliette's neck in half right then. François liked that he held his dear sister's life in his two hands. He wanted his other sister, the incorruptible one, also.

François released Juliette's throat. He clutched her shoulders from below, pulling her up with the strength of his arms as his legs kicked her down. His hips flattened as they descended. She squirmed under his mass. That it was uncomfortable for her to be pinioned thus, her arms behind her back did not signify. That she was contained below him was rather the point. He luxuriated in the unconscious grip of Juliette's muscles. He bathed in her secret waters.

When crisis approached there were many things that he liked to do. This time, he withdrew and straddled the supine Juliette. He cupped his hand about the sceptre and crown and collected his spendings in the depression of his palm. Once he had finished, he lifted Juliette to her knees by her hair and held his hand out to the Comptessa. After she had finished cleaning him, he would dismiss her with his orders. So very like a servant, she was, so obliging. Whilst Juliette arranged matters with Eugénie, he would finish his letters. Perhaps he ought to write to Saint-Just as well, he considered.

His throat was dry. He needed to slake his thirst.

 

[MelancholyBaby]

Juliette

The taste of her brother was still in Juliette’s mouth as she walked down the dimly lit hallway toward Eugénie’s room. Her steps were light and fast, designed to go unnoticed by the servants of the estate. Perhaps they knew already. Perhaps even Eugénie knew. Discretion was not a strong point of Juliette’s; her cries and screams were probably as common noises around the estate as her younger sister’s prayers. As long as they kept their mouths shut she didn’t care if they knew or not.

The door to Eugénie’s door was closed. Juliette’s hand reached for the knob, preparing to turn it when she thought better of it. While the sight of her like this may have appealed to François it was likely to terrify Eugénie. Instead, Juliette continued down the hall to her own room where she could make herself more presentable.

There was nothing she could do to cover the purple imprints that her brother’s hands had left on her neck. They appeared garish, yet strangely beautiful, in the candlelight as she sat at her vanity, brushing and smoothing her hair. A little shiver went through her body as she remembered how, just moments ago, he had created those bruises. She washed her face and changed her dressing gown, noticing the little specks of blood that had collected on it from yesterday’s activities. The lust and wildness in her eyes had nearly all disappeared. She congratulated herself silently for her decision to clean up. François would have been proud.

Juliette returned again to Eugénie’s door. She did not knock but entered quietly and stood in front of the door, her body shielding her hands from view as they locked the door behind her. Her younger sister was in bed, the blankets pulled up around her with her eyes closed, probably in prayer. Juliette felt a pang of guilt as she realized the plans she and her brother had for Eugénie, but the urge to please her brother overwhelmed her and allowed her to continue with their plan.

“A word with you, Eugénie, please?”

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Eugénie

Her sister's words stirred her from her prayer and she opened her eyes to see that she was standing by the bed. Smiling shyly as she sat up, her covers still pulled up above her breasts as Juliette sat down beside her.

"Yes of course Juliette, is something the matter?"

Eugénie was not best pleased that Juliette had come to her, her cheek still stung from the slap she received, at least it felt that way. She guessed that her sister would berate her for this or the other.

Looking closer she could see the red marks on Juliette's pale neck, wondering for a second if François had inflicted them and instantly chiding herself for thinking so shameful a thought. Her siblings may indulge in incestual relations yet the concept of hurting someone was completely alien to Eugénie, especially someone one loved. Perhaps it was therefor she felt so horrible everytime Juliette scolded her. Thinking that it was her fault, that if she'd only try a bit harder her sister would not hate her so much as she evidently did.

Mouthing a prayer again, knowing that self-pity was a sin. She ought to bear her sufferings with her head held high, to respond with love to the people who tormented her. That was the Christian way.

"I am sorry if I have caused you worries dear sister. I shall endeavour to better myself."

She tried to smile yet the look on her sister's face scared her. She looked at her much the same way as would a cat look at a mouse, and Eugénie felt increasingly trapped.

 

[MelancholyBaby]

Juliette

Juliette’s voice was low; seductive yet gentle. “Nothing is the matter, Eugénie, we just have not talked for so very long; and…well, you’re a woman now and there are things that perhaps we should discuss.” She paused. “Especially as it appears that François will not let you join the sisterhood as you had intended.”

Juliette watched the look of despair wash over her sister’s countenance. Anyone who knew Eugénie knew that she wanted nothing more than to be a nun. Indeed, Juliette had been saddened by François’ decision to forbid Eugénie from joining the sisterhood. Yet her loyalty and love for her brother were above anything she had ever felt for her sister so she had no choice but to support him in his decision.

“You do not think, Juliette, that there is any way he will let me join?”

Juliette chuckled. “You are a silly girl to entertain such notions. Our brother does not believe in God. Why on earth do you think he would let you devote your life to something that doesn’t exist?” Her voice was sharp. “It is about time you think, Eugénie, of something other than the Carmelite Sisters.”

Juliette steeled herself as she noticed the tears that formed in Eugénie’s eyes. She thought instead of François’ eyes; intense and frenzied from the sight of his youngest sister naked before him. A nice image indeed.

“Don’t cry, stupid girl. Your brother is not completely without...” Juliette chose her words carefully, “…concern for your situation. He understands that you will need to learn the ways of men and women and that you may wish to marry someday. That is the purpose of my visit.” She reached for Eugénie’s hand, visible under the blankets, resting hers over it. “We’d like to help you.”

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Eugénie

She tried to blink back the tears hearing Juliette recount her brother's decision. In the span of a few seconds it seemed that her entire world collapsed. She would not be allowed to join the Carmelites but instead have to marry. It felt like a betrayal to Christ and the Blessed Virgin, the mere thought of submitting to the lusts of a man as she would be required to consummate the marriage making her shrudder. Yet Eugénie dared not protest, fearing that Juliette would strike her again. Truth to tell she was petrified, the presence of her sister scaring her to silence. Still she knew she would have to answer.

"I am thankful that our brother cares so much for my welfare, and I shall of course endeavour to act in a way that will befit me and reflect well on the de Chantonnay family."

Squeezing Juliette's hand as she braced herself for what she was about to say;

"Although I am saddened by the news that I may not become one of the Carmelites I shall do as I am told. Yet I beg you Juliette do not speak such blsaphemy." She turned to her sister, eyes filled with tears "It is abominable in the eyes of the Lord and I will not idly sit by and watch as you condemn yourself Juliette. Please let us pray together for forgiveness." She bit her lip before continuing. "Pehaps we can see Father Reynard tomorrow, I know you have not confessed for many months and I'm sure that whatever your sin he will grant you absolution."

She squeezed her hand again "I love you Juliette and I cannot abide the thought of you sentencing your soul to eternal damnation."

 

[MelancholyBaby]

Juliette

Juliette rolled her eyes as Eugénie went on about the church. That was what had always bothered her about the Church. What right had a man to grant another man absolution? It didn’t make sense to her and she cared little for it. Any other time Juliette would have slapped Eugénie sharply, telling her to cease her ramblings. That would not do, tonight, however. A bit of gentleness would be required.

“Eugénie, I do not think you understand me. We will not go to Father Reynard tomorrow. And, as I have told you before, our brother would have much to share with you about men like Father Reynard. Tonight François and I have plans for you. You can participate willingly or unwillingly.” Juliette’s eyes met Eugénie’s in a cold stare. “But you will participate.”

Juliette was prepared for the sobs that raked through her sister’s small body. “It is going to happen sometime or another, Eugénie. You should consider yourself fortunate that your brother cares so much for you that he would not cause you pain at the hands of a strange man.” Juliette began pacing the room, her eyes seeking out items she could use to restrain her sister. Eugénie was not going to go willingly and Juliette knew that François would appreciate her helplessly bound to the bed, awaiting his ministrations.

“It will be much easier this way. It is quite natural. It happens all the time. I bet even your saintly brother Charles was with a woman once. And of course, Mama had Papa, else how would you be here?” Juliette placed her hand over Eugénie’s once again. “And think of François. Just trying to help you the best he can. Knowing that you will never love him like you loved Charles. He is sensitive to this, he wants to help you and show his love for you.” Juliette paused, wondering if she had had some effect on Eugénie. Her work may be a bit easier if Eugénie were not so damned resistant. “Are you ready to begin?”

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Eugénie

Eugénie visibly recoiled hearing Juliette's words. Making her love François? It made her feel sick. She had not dared address the issue of the relation between her brother and sister, yet now she understood that they planned to make her party to it.

"Please Juliette, you cannot be serious. It is a sin what you are suggesting. It is gruesome and filthy and you want me to take part?" Rage surging through her as she turned to Juliette, her slender frame poised for defence.

"I hate you Juliette, I hate you for bringing such sin into our parents' house. I hate you for being a harlot and I hate François."

Tears running down her cheeks as she moved away from Juliette. "I will never partake Juliette. I will never become enamoured by lust. You are an animal, you rut with your own flesh and blood and you don't even feel ashamed. I hate you!"

She was screaming the last sentence, her hands balled into fists as she pulled back further, seeing her sister snarling in response and lowering her voice somewhat. "Please Juliette I love you, you're my sister, don't make me do this. I beg you for the love of the Blessed Virgin."

Reaching out for Juliette her hand seeking hers.

 

[MelancholyBaby]

Juliette grabbed Eugénie’s hand, pulling her arm roughly. “You might have had a chance appealing to me as your sister but certainly not with your religious nonsense.” She let go of her hand, moving toward Eugénie’s armoire where she was sure she would find some suitable sashes to use on her sister’s arms and legs and perhaps even her mouth. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll not make mention of the church in front of François.” She found two pale blue sashes and walked back toward the bed where her terrified sister sat, clutching the blankets around her, her face red and wet with tears.

“You will partake, Eugénie,” Juliette said. “You have no choice. Your only choice is how much you want to suffer. Now, give me your arm.”

“I will never partake, Juliette, never; I hate you and I…” Juliette’s hand connected with Eugénie’s cheek with a loud smack. Juliette’s hand stung from the impact. She couldn’t remember striking her sister so forcefully before. She took a moment to compose herself, trying to ignore the loud sobs and pleas that poured from her sister.

“Give me your arm.” A defeated, slender arm emerged from under the blankets. Eugénie’s sobs didn’t stop as Juliette tied the first sash around the small wrist, emulating the way that François had tied her wrists on so many occasions. “Now lie down.” The sobbing increased, her sister’s small body shaking under the covers. Juliette’s voice rose sharply. “I said lie down!” Eugénie wouldn’t move. Juliette grew irritated. “If you keep this up, he is going to come in here and finish what I have started. I do not think you wish that to happen.”

Juliette’s efforts were rewarded by Eugénie’s body slowly sinking to the mattress as she had requested. “Good girl,” Juliette said as she brought Eugénie’s arm to the post of her bed, tying the other end of the sash to it. “See,” she whispered, “It does not have to be that bad.”

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Eugénie

There was no fight left in her, the stinging blow to her face had made her ears ring, and as she was pushed down on the bed having her arms tied with the sashes that Charles had bought for her she could do nothing but cry.

Juliette tightened the knots and then roughly pulled her legs apart, securing her ankles with expert ties.

"You look so pretty Eugénie, like a little angel." She mocked her as she pulled the covers from the bed and kneeling beside her. "But you cannot wear this." She tugged at the night-shirt Eugénie was wearing cursing as the cloth withstood the assaults.

"Please Juliette don't make me do this. I will be good, I will not say anything about what you've done. Please let me go." She pleaded trying to appeal to her sister.

"Shut up Eugénie or I swear I'll gag you!" Juliette had found a pair of scissors and took them to the bed, cutting the night-shirt open revealing her nakedness underneath.

Eugénie could do nothing, she was entirely at Juliette's mercy and as her sister leaned closer she turned her head, not wanting to look at her, and instantly receiving yet another blow to her face.

"You will not move unless told to Eugénie. You ought to know that or François will teach you and I assure you my sweet little sister that you will not enjoy that."

She gave her a humorless smile as she sat down, her slender legs tucked in beneath her and her hand resting on Eugénie's stomach.

 

[MelancholyBaby]

Juliette

Juliette could feel the goosebumps emerging on Eugénie's skin as her hand gently caressed her stomach. She could see the nipples on her sister’s small breasts harden and could hear the quickened pace of her breathing.

“You really are beautiful, Eugénie. I cannot say I blame our brother for his love for you. Perhaps I shall sketch him your picture for his birthday, just like this, what do you think?” Her only replies were soft sobs that rocked the younger sister’s body. “Or perhaps in the library, as it is his favorite place. Maybe I could sketch you reading from one of his favorite books, I’m sure it would be much more fun than reading your catechism.”

Juliette leaned over Eugénie again, placing her lips close to her sister’s face. “Now,” she whispered. “Kiss me and tell me you love me, Eugénie.”

It sickened Eugénie to think of kissing her sister, much less the way that she had perhaps intended. Yet, so afraid, she placed her lips chastely against Juliette’s. She pulled away quickly and whispered those necessary words “I love you, Juliette,” to assure she would not get punished again by her sister.

While it may not have been the way that François kissed her, the kisses that drove her mad with lust, she enjoyed the feel of her lips upon Eugénie’s. There would always be next time to push her just a little deeper. After all, she had not yet experienced anything with François.

“Thank you, Eugénie.” Juliette arose from the bed. “I am going to go fetch our brother. Please do not struggle while I am gone, it will just upset him and make him harder on you. Do as he says and do not fight him.” Juliette pulled a blanket over her sister’s body as she had noticed Eugénie’s shivers. “I will be back shortly.”

Juliette locked the door behind her, taking the key with her as she hurriedly made her way to the library. She knocked on the door three times, a distinctive knock that the two shared to indicate that they were ready for him. Juliette hurried back to Eugénie’s room and waited.

 

[qerasija]

Le Comte de Chantonnay

François, Comte de Chantonnay paced the library like a caged lion. It was fifteen footfalls, a three step turn, two more steps and another turn, and back again. The newspapers from Paris had soured his mood. Charles François Dumouriez, one of the King's men, was not a person that he trusted. He could not deduce what game the Prussians were at. He did not like what the British were about. The Jacobins were right, but any number of them were also mad. The Comte feared for his country.

The auguries were clear. It required no prophet or oracle to divine the future. It would be war, and it would be brutal. But if he was careful, the family would be restored in the upheaval. He had some assets in his possession: himself, the clarity of his thinking, the intellect that allowed him to cultivate friends, the myths he had abandoned; the sudden and renewed popularity of the de Chantonnay name in the villages following the brief cruelty of Charles and the staggering ineptitude of his father helped; so also the feminine charms that Juliette had used to seduce anyone with any wealth in the region; and Eugénie, for whom there were already suitors aplenty though not yet the right offer.

The state of France concerned him greatly, but that night this was not his chief worry. It was his sisters that had rendered the neat processes of his cogitations to turmoil. He had left the details of the seduction to Juliette. She would not falter, he knew, if only because she wanted Eugénie as much as he did.

The rapping on the door caused the hair on François's neck to abruptly stand on edge.

It was time.

François took the candlestick from the desk; he grabbed the half empty bottle of laudanum and hurried to Eugénie's bedchamber. He knocked the same signal on the door, and Juliette stepped out. Her eyes glinted steel. The grin on her lips was positively feral. The teeth were sharp. Like recognised like.

'Dites-moi,' he said, and received an efficient report of her deeds and misdeeds. With the weight of his body, he pressed her against the solidity of the oak door. His teeth latched on to her bottom lip, biting until he tasted blood. Eugénie was bound to her bed and appealing for mercy. Whether she knew it or no, she was ready for him. He would not be judged by God for the things that he would do, but by Eugénie. He kissed Juliette. His heat and rigidness made their impression known in the folds of Juliette's gown.

'Ouvert,' he said.

Juliette threw the door open for him.

The church in the distance pealed the late hour. The bells had a purity of sound that carried in the cold air.

But for the candle at the bedside and the candle that he held, there was no other light in the room. The shifting patterns of shadows danced on the walls.

François devoured his sister with a look, the tattered rags Eugénie wore, her nakedness exposed for the first time to a man's vision, her virtue in balance. But what impressed him were her eyes, the eloquence of their pleading, their pity and compassion.

He licked his lips and smiled.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Eugénie

Eugénie watched in horror as her brother entered the room, the look on his face made more terryifing by the flickering candles. Glancing to his side she was Juliette, a predatory leer on her face and a small rivulet of blood running down her chin giving her a ghoulish impression.

Her heart racing as François moved closer to her, the cold smile on his lips making her cringe and struggle against her bonds. "François please don't do this, I beg you.." She was silenced by a slap from Juliette who had positioned herself next to her on the bed, her slender fingers running through Eugénie's dark curls, mocking her as François caressed her cheek.

"Pray if you want to dearest sister but know that there is but one authority here. Neither the Blessed Virgin nor the Saints can help you now Eugénie and you ought to be thankful that you will never again have to adhere to the lies of the Church."

He had begun to unbutton his breeches, the predadatory look on his face enhanced as he watched her struggle, silently mouthing a prayer. Juliette slapped her again, her voice pitched high as she pulled her hair "Be quiet and listen to our brother."

François leaned closer, the alcohol on his breath invading Eugénie's nostrils as he brandished the crop. Charles's crop that he'd given her when he had taught her to ride all these years ago.

"Do you recognise it Eugénie, yes of course you do, it will come to good employ tonight if you not behave as a dutiful sister and protegée should."

With that he leaned closer and pressed his lips to her, his sharp teeth breaking the skin of her lower lip, tasting her blood before plunging his tongue inside her mouth.

 

[MelancholyBaby]

Juliette

Juliette watched as her brother kissed Eugénie. It was the way he had kissed her in the hall just minutes before. The bleeding had stopped but she could still taste its metallic tang in her mouth. François' hands moved down her sister’s body, pinching and twisting the nipples, mauling her.

With one hand still firmly gripping Eugénie’s hair she moved her other down her body, avoiding François’ hands and coming to rest upon the soft mound of hair that covered her sister’s most private place. Juliette felt her sister’s body jerk as her fingers tangled in the hair before sliding them lower. It was no surprise that she was dry. She wondered if her sister would ever allow herself to enjoy this. There was so much to be enjoyed.

Juliette removed her hand and brought it to her mouth, wetting two of her fingers, before positioning her fingers again on her sister’s sex. She could hear Eugénie cry out in protest, but under her brother’s lips it was a futile gesture. It did, however, succeed in drawing François’ eyes from Eugénie and onto Juliette, watching her fingers gently explore the younger’s sex. His hands continued their assault on her body, alternating between twisting and slapping her breasts.

Juliette’s finger probed her sister gently, exploring her anatomy, feeling the soft folds which she knew had never been touched before. She removed her fingers and rewet them, tasting the subtle essence of Eugénie on her fingers. The exploration was rougher this time and Juliette felt the muscles in her sister’s thighs contract, trying to prevent her from access to her sex. She pulled Eugénie’s hair roughly. “Stop fighting.”

Juliette knew the time was near as she noticed her brother’s hands return to his breeches. Only a few inches away, she grazed his flesh with her hand, wishing she would have been on the receiving end of his affections. François slapped her greedy hands away and positioned himself near Eugénie’s opening. His eyes met Juliette’s and she moved down the bed. She placed one hand on her sister’s thigh, urging her to open herself for him. She spit on the other and brought it to her brother’s flesh and then guided it into her sister.

 

[qerasija]

Le Comte de Chantonnay

Juliette's hand placed François into Eugénie. He would have preferred that one sister deliver him from her mouth into the other sister's sex, but that particular sequence could wait for another time. The warmth of the sheath, the rasp of the walls, the fullness as the muscles stretched to accommodate his girth, that was enough for the moment. His eyes looked into Eugénie's. With a vast grin, he twisted his hips and fell atop her.

Seated within, what François expected, he did not find.

The droit de seigneur was abolished by the Comte, his grandfather; restored unofficially by the Comte, his father; and perpetuated by the Comte, his brother. The ritual was one reason why the de Chantonnay name was less than popular in the villages. By choosing to let the tradition lapse, a gesture as simple as that, François had garnered the support of the peasants. They had elected him their deputy.

He hadn't intruded upon every nuptial, but François, Comte de Chantonnay knew how penetrating a virgin ought to feel. He had done this often enough when he was at seminary. The fathers, whose faith was as strong as his, had taught him. Eugénie, of the devotions, would leave no mark of blood to signify her chastity as Juliette had.

François's first response was to grunt at his sister. Next, he spat on Eugénie's chest. Thirdly, he named her for what she was -- a whore. His hand cuffed her face. His fingers left their imprint on the skin.

'There's no blood,' he told Juliette. 'Eugénie is a harlot. She has been done. She is undone.'

'Really?' asked Juliette. Her voice assumed a lupine tone. Her eyebrow arched expressively. She shot a question to Eugénie in a glance. It was the obvious question, the only question.

Before Eugénie could make reply, François had set his teeth upon the shoulder. He bit, tearing the flesh. The only sound his sister made was a yelp. It was the whimper of a dog, a bitch.

Juliette scratched her nails along Eugénie's skin.

'Make her hurt,' François instructed. His two hands mauled his sister's chest. Stopping Eugénie's wails with his mouth, François moved his loins in the most ancient of rhythms.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Eugénie

The pain was unbearable and for a moment she thought she was going insane. It felt like she was being stabbed and burned from the inside, every thrust of her brother driving new waves of searing pain through her sex and then out until every fibre of her body screamed in pain.

Yet the most hurtful was the accusations hurled at her, the way that François and Juliette took such pleasure in declaring her a whore. She had never touched herself, never contemplated such an act. She'd always gone great lenghts to preserve her virtue, the fact that she always insited on wearing a long shirt as she bathed having been a source of laughter among her family. And now as her own brother violated her he called her a harlot.

It felt that she had no more tears left, as he entered her it seemed that the well from whence they sprung had been emptied. Eugénie closed her eyes, willing herself to distance herself from the plight of the body, in her mind she repeated the mantra that had been her one solace. "Hail Mary full of Grace, Hail Mary full of Grace, Hail Mary full of Grace, HAIL MARY FULL OF GRACE!"

She screamed again as François sunk his teeth into her shoulder, breaking the skin, his saliva on her chest from where he'd spat on her. His face as mask of animal lusts as was Juliette, who's still held her by the hair. Beads of sweat had formed on her brow as her brother continued his assualts, driving his manhood inside her, the exertion and the pain making her go limp. Once again trying to recall the mantra, seeking what comfort from the knowledge that the Blessed Virgin saw to her in her hour of need, but as François rammed home even harder she found herself praying for death.

 

[MelancholyBaby]

Juliette

The hypocritical little bitch. All of her prayers and rosaries and forgiveness that Eugénie flung at everyone were not sincere. She was a whore, the same as Juliette, the same as François. Only worse.

“You little harlot,” Juliette said, flinging back Eugénie’s words at her. “Bringing sin into the family? Look at you. You are no different. A lying whore.” Juliette’s hands tangled roughly in Eugénie’s hair, her eyes burning into her sister’s terrified ones, demanding an answer. “Who was it?” Eugénie’s silence irritated Juliette and her fingers grew rougher, scratching rougly, almost drawing blood. “Answer me!” Juliette’s hand connected forcefully with Eugénie’s cheek.

Juliette looked up at François, his eyes mad with lust as he thrust into her. “I think I know who it was, dear brother,” she said softly, her eyes next darting to Eugénie’s. “It was Father Reynard, wasn’t it?” Anger flashed through Eugénie’s eyes but she remained silent. “Non? Maybe he prefers men. Well, then, it would have had to have been Charles.” She looked up at her brother. “I would not have thought Charles to do such a thing.” Juliette’s eyes met Eugénie’s again, a strange mix of cruelty and amusement in them. “But then again, young one, you were always quite taken with him.”

Sobs raked Eugénie’s body. Juliette noticed the trickle of blood from her lip had stopped. She moved slightly and placed her lips on her younger sister’s, suckling the bottom lip gently, encouraging the blood to flow again. Juliette felt herself grow mad with lust from the taste, the sound of her siblings’ union, the pleasure she could see in her brother’s eyes. She slid her tongue against Eugénie’s lips, parting them roughly, closing her own teeth around the lip as her brother had done earlier, biting but not breaking the skin. She pulled away and looked down at her terrified relation.

“She must be punished for her actions, François.”

 

[qerasija]

Le Comte de Chantonnay

François saw the fear, bright in Eugénie's eyes even by candlelight. He couldn't interpret the meaning of the fear, its source, whether it originated in what it was that he was doing with her or in the answers to Juliette's questions.

François stopped moving. He held himself ensconced within Eugénie's warmth and forced himself to concentrate. He flattered himself that he observed the world as it was, without illusions. He was a rapist. She was a papist. What was the difference? Did she know what the Holy Catholic Church did? He had forced himself upon her, taking her sex without invitation, it was true. His brother and father, their memories dear to her heart, indulged their passions also, but cloaked in the legitimacy of a feudal right. The essential difference was that whilst he would win freedom from his transgressions by Eugénie's eventual pardon -- as he had received Juliette's pardon and belated permission for the things he had done -- his father and brother took under the aegis of a divine authority. They asked no pardon and received none.

What ever was Eugénie hiding? That was the question. He had expected anything but this.

Was it Charles who did it? Was it their saintly father?

He had intended to sate his desires first with one sister, and then with the other, but François decided the question could not be postponed. It was with deep reluctance that he found the strength of will to withdraw.

'Step aside, Juliette,' he commanded.

He crawled onto the bed when she had withdrawn. Straddling Eugénie chest, he slapped his insolence, moist with her exertions, across her face.

He shuffled backward slightly so that he hovered above her chest. His lower extremities nestled in the hollow there. He dipped his head to kiss her on the forehead paternally. 'It is a good question Juliette asks, and one that I suggest you answer. Who took your sex before me, my lady?'

The silence and the sobs were not an answer.

'Give me the crop,' he demanded of Juliette.

 

[Lady_Mornington]

Eugénie

Eugénie was in a world of pain. The sharp searing pain in her sex, the numb sensations in her shoulder, the stinging pain in her lip and the burning from where Juliette's hand had connected with her cheek.

Yet the most unbearable was the hurt her siblings caused her by hurling the accusations at her. She was untouched, she had never desired to be touched by a man. The mere suggestion that either Papa, Father Reynard or Charles beloved Charles would have committed such an act with her made her entire being rebel.

Yelping as François withdrew from her body and bringing himselt to straddle her chest, his shameful parts exposed lewdly and she tried desperately to block out the image, as she had tried to block out the pain and humiliation that the rape had caused her. Clenching her eyes shut, willing herself to distance herself from the what François and Juliette had planned for her, their countenances loathsome to behold.

She heard their questions and the insults and then the harshly spoken order that Juliette should bring the whip, and bracing herself for the inevitable pain that François seemed intent to inflict on her. Perhaps she slid into unconciousness for the sharp pain as Juliette's palm connected again made her focus yet more. Focus on the pain, the humiliation and the degradation that was to come. Eugénie prayed. Silently mouthing the psalm

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: For thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;
Thou annointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over.

 

[MelancholyBaby]

Juliette’s lips curved into a smile as she reached for the crop. Charles wasn’t gone after all, dear Eugénie, he was still right here. She couldn’t resist caressing her sister with the crop before she placed it on the bed beside François. Nothing harsh, just simple caresses, probably much like the ones Charles had bestowed upon Eugénie, the lying whore.

Her lips were moving. She must be praying. Juliette reached out and placed her hands over Eugénie’s mouth harshly, blocking her speech. “Your brother asked you a question, and you choose not to answer him? He asked you nicely and instead you pray? You recite scripture?” She pulled her hand away, accidentally connecting with her brother’s sex. “Did Charles like that?”

François subtly picked up the crop and smacked Juliette with it, the blow intensified by its force and unexpectedness. “I am capable of receiving answers to my own questions, Juliette. If Eugénie chooses not to answer me she can accept the consequences.” He moved backward and stepped off the bed. “I will give you one more chance to tell me, Eugénie. Who took your sex before?”

Juliette bit her tongue, the anger rising in her body. Pathetic Eugénie did not speak, she just shook and sobbed. She was not worthy of her brother’s kindness or attentions.

The first strike was on her thighs, first the left, then the right. Brief shrieks interrupted the endless sobbing. The crop traveled up her body, concentrating on her breasts, Eugénie’s skin turning purple underneath it. He pulled Juliette from where she had been standing in the corner, fighting tears of rage and humiliation. François pushed her to the ground, his command known, although silent.

She tasted the faint essence of her sister upon him. She happily moved her tongue and lips around him, the joy of pleasing him easing her heart; drying her inner tears.