A Boudoir for Three

By Alysha Ellis

Angelique needs a scandal so outrageous it will shock all of Paris, and she has managed to find the two men who will help her enact it.

In the France of Louis XIV, Angelique Beaulieu's step—father is forcing her to marry the aging and degenerate Marquis D'Arly.

Made desperate by the Marquis' threats of violence, Angelique visits a notorious Parisian htel where patrons indulge in wild sexual adventures. There, she meets the angelic looking Christophe and his dark and brooding friend Armand. The three of them indulge in an orgy of sensual delight.

Angelique believes her actions have freed her from the Marquis...until she is abducted and learns that her connection to Christophe and Armand has become a threat to her very existence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
• Release date: Jul 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781781840412

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A Total-E-Bound Publication

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A Boudoir For Three

ISBN # 978-1-78184-041-2

©Copyright Alysha Ellis 2012

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright July 2012

Edited by Stacey Birkel

Total-E-Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

Warning:

This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 1.

This story contains 67 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 9 pages.

Bodices and Boudoirs

A BOUDOIR FOR THREE

Alysha Ellis

Angelique needs a scandal so outrageous it will shock all of Paris, and she has managed to find the two men who will help her enact it.

In the France of Louis XIV, Angelique Beaulieu’s stepfather is forcing her to marry the aging and degenerate Marquis D’Arly.

Made desperate by the Marquis’ threats of violence, Angelique visits a notorious Parisian hôtel where patrons indulge in wild sexual adventures. There, she meets the angelic-looking Christophe and his dark and brooding friend Armand. The three of them indulge in an orgy of sensual delight.

Angelique believes her actions have freed her from the Marquis…until she is abducted and learns that her connection to Christophe and Armand has become a threat to her very existence.

Chapter One

I have chosen a husband for you, the Vicomte de Valenne announced. His cold gaze swept over his stepdaughter. You are to wed the Marquis D’Arly.

Angelique Beaulieu’s eyes widened. Her self-centred stepfather seldom stirred himself to any effort on her behalf. Unease prickled her skin. I look forward to meeting the Marquis when the social season commences again, Angelique said dutifully. By winter, I will be out of full mourning and able to attend some quiet gatherings. If I find the Marquis acceptable…

The Marquis wants a bride now, he snapped. The connection is advantageous. If we wait, his choice will settle on another. Her stepfather leaned towards her, one arm raised, his mouth a thin slash. I expect your obedience and gratitude for the time and money I have spent on your upkeep these last ten years.

I am indeed grateful, Papa, Angelique said. She did not remind him that her late father’s fortune paid for her upkeep and the Vicomte’s lavish expenditures. The pretence of docility kept the Vicomte’s temper at bay, a lesson she had learned well during her mother’s long illness. But it is only seven months since Mama died.

"I will not wait for some useless social convention, her stepfather replied. You are already over nineteen. You have spent the years when you should have been attracting a suitor caring for your mother in her illness. This may be your only chance of finding a husband. You will not refuse this offer." His hand clenched into a fist and Angelique felt the blood drain from her cheeks. She hated the beatings, the humiliation, the sly smirks from the footmen, and the compassionate glances from the servants who remembered her father and happier times. How could marriage be worse than what she had already endured?

A small ember of optimism kindled into life. Her betrothal could be the beginning of a better future, where she would be mistress of her own household—safe and content, perhaps even loved…

* * * *

Angelique’s hopes crumbled to dry, bitter ash when she entered the salon that afternoon and laid eyes on the Marquis D’Arly. The Marquis was old—far older than her stepfather. His white skin clung to his cheekbones like creased wet parchment. He stared at her with pale, cold blue eyes and his narrow mouth twisted into a leer.

All her strength of will went into holding her hand out to greet the Marquis, but nothing could stop the shudder that passed through her when he bent and pressed his scaly lips to her fingers. As the tremor shook her, he looked up and something bright and febrile flashed in his eyes.

Sit down, my dear, the Marquis said, his voice sounding like the rasp of leaves in a dry winter wind.

Angelique moved towards one of the delicate, spindle-legged chairs, but her stepfather directed her to the sofa with one jerk of his chin. Then, defying all rules of decorum, he strode from the room, leaving her alone in the salon with the Marquis. He slid onto the seat next to her, the stuffy summer heat worsened by his miasma of age, sweat and overly sweet perfume. His foul breath poisoned the air as he leaned too close. She pressed herself into the cushioned sofa, fighting the urge to gag.

So coy! his whisper grated across her strained nerves. I am delighted to find you as innocent as I have been promised. Your little cunt will be tight and wet when I take you.

Burning with shocked embarrassment and praying she had somehow misheard, she tried to pull away, to put some distance between them. One of the Marquis’ hands snapped out with snakelike speed and held her fast. The other hand slid up her thigh, delving inwards, pressing the layers of her underskirts against her.

She gasped and began to struggle in earnest, her heart racing. Let me go. This is not seemly.

He laughed, a soundless exhalation of air. Seemly or not, you are mine. You must smile when your master pets you. He pulled her hand down onto the rigid rod that lay under the brocaded silk of his dress coat. My cock is strong and eager to perform, he gloated. "I paid well for a fresh, young virgin and I will have you—tight and bloody, screaming and moaning beneath me. His tongue flicked along his wrinkled lips. You will obey me in all things, and you will take whatever punishment I see fit to visit upon you. If you give me a son to inherit the title, when I am finished with you I will be generous and allow you to retire to live in quiet seclusion in the country. The hand holding her wrist tightened painfully. If you do not, I will take you to a very private society to which I belong. Such a tender morsel as yourself will be an acceptable delicacy, even after I have finished with you. The habitués do not mind if the occasional offering is slightly used, as long as she is toothsome when they begin their…festivities. The look in his eyes chilled Angelique in spite of the room’s warmth. They enjoy punishing uncooperative girls. You will not be of much use to anyone once they have finished with you."

She swallowed down an acidic rush of bile. I find your conversation repellent, My Lord. I wish you to leave.

The Marquis only smiled, a small curve of his thin lips. You are afraid of me. The smile grew cruel. "Bon. I like fear. It adds sauce to my pleasure. He leaned over her, and squeezed her breast—hard—until she could not hide her pain. Does it hurt, mignon? You will learn to love the pain, to beg me for it."

Angelique shook her head, too enraged to speak. If she were a man, she would grab her sword and strike him dead. Her fists clenched in fury at her powerlessness.

The Marquis stood. "I leave you now. You have two