Marquis de Sade round-robin fic

Chapter 1
By: Rushysgirl


“Charlotte”...he whispered the name under his breath, visions of her firm ripe figure filled his dreams, thoughts of her sweet graces alive in his tortured mind; one so young and naïve the sole object of his affections. Predator and prey.

This pristine creature; so pure, so untouched by man’s hand. Fresh as the first bud of spring; still to fully bloom. Blossoming into the delight of the crop, yet to be tainted by the harshness of the season. Shadowed only by tones of distress of life as a servant, the sole blemish on an otherwise refined specimen. Now, more than ever, her full and distinct colour as an woman begging to be revealed. In the eyes of the Marquis, ripe for the picking.

The wall mounted candles flickered, creating shadows on the pert breasts protruding above her tightly laced bodice. Her sweeping skirts flounced in her wake as she sauntered down the corridor. A perfect portrait of innocence, the embodiment of purity, this young woman had the heir of sweetness wrapped around her. A maiden of the world by necessity, but not yet by nature. The world at her feet, sins at her doorstep, but was she truly ready for it?

Her trembling hands turned the key in the lock; the gates of hell ajar, tempting her to succumb to the ways of the world.

“Ah, my sweet, make yourself comfortable…” his voracious gaze locked upon her as she crossed the room, her delicate footsteps echoing on the cold stone. She was not truly at ease, her sensitive soul not at home in the overpowering presence of such a man.

Somehow, she made him weak; her mere existence within the obscurity of his world tugged at his heartstrings, though the straining of his trousers suggested solely she was but a visual temptation for him. In this knowledge, she attempted to keep her distance, but more often than not she was pulled back, magnetised by the very things that repelled others. Perhaps she even toyed with the idea that he was a misunderstood being; misguided and swayed by the evils of depravity and the lecherous conjures of his own mind; but not the inhumane, carnal creature she was warned against fraternising with. She didn’t view him as others did- a hungry spider weaving its web of nasty tricks awaiting a vulnerable target to beguile; an opportunistic manipulator charming his way into the affections of others, only to suck the life out of them.

She was unable to accept that the man who entertained her so, humoured his young companion with his wit and his hospitality, was the devil in disguise. She refused to believe that the Marquis was such a hideous, malevolent beast beyond redemption.

The tales imparted to her of de Sade’s past frightened Charlotte, but she could not associate them with the flamboyant, graceful figure who stood before her today. Was Donatien de Sade really so brutish, so bestial in nature that he was truly devoid of every ounce of ardour and compassion? The more time she spent in his company, the more doubt settled in her conscience. Though she had been strictly instructed more than once to refrain from visiting his quarters, it was one last pleasure she relished in that made her maddening days slaving for lunatics bearable. She was no longer perturbed around him as she once was. Though it pained her to admit it to herself, she trusted him. However she looked at it, the Marquis intrigued her, excited her even.

Charlotte’s eyes darted around the lavishly decorated room. “Something’s different…” she remarked.

On this occasion, something was indeed different, and it was much more than the Marquis’ new filthy wall hangings. The overpowering odour of patchouli met her nostrils and filled her head the way it always did, the Marquis reclined gracefully atop the velvet chaise lounge in the same customary fashion and the room held that proverbial air of ambivalence and perplexity.

“One should always desist from questioning that which provides one with such gratification”, he added smugly, daring her with the cheeky glint in his eye.

“I meant the new…decorations” she indicated cautiously, slowly pacing back and forth.

“Oh, a gift from my wife”, a wave of his willowy arm motioning toward the plethora of paintings which now adorned the greystone cell walls. The Marquis chuckled as Charlotte gaped at the subjects of the artworks in all manner of extraordinary sexual positions and experimenting with the most bizarre objects she had ever set eyes upon. Charlotte paced the length of the bookshelf, admiring the display of ornaments depicting both pleasure and pain; his little shrine to sodomy, feigning interest in trinkets she had cast eyes over a thousand times.

Detecting her unease, he suddenly leapt like a great agile cat to his feet, tilting his pale wigged head and cracking that familiar wicked smile she had become so used to. “What would you say to a drink, my lovely?” Attempting to share his enthusiasm, a half-hearted smile crossed her face. What could it hurt?

Visibly chuffed, eyes dancing, he made a show of fetching wine for his companion; clutching both vessels in the one hand and dispensing generous quantities into each, winking as he offered her the glass. “My special treat…I don’t serve this to just anyone…” he trailed off, taking a hefty swig of the ruby liquid. Charlotte sipped tentatively. “Takes the edge off”…he slipped into his familiar position on the lounge. “Come, sit by me,” he chimed. She did as he directed, arranging the bulk of her skirts and leaning into the comfort of the padded velvet. The Marquis admired every inch of her, drinking in the delicate curves of her profile.

“So, tell me, my sweet, what do you…long for…most of all?”, each syllable arduously drawn out. She had come to expect this kind of banter from the Marquis, but on this occasion it seemed he was truly prying, testing the water…pushing the boundaries more than ever. She felt his hot breath on her skin, noticing he was inching closer. In a single fluid motion his arm draped across the back of the lounge, edging his thigh nearer to hers.

Something within told her not to resist his advances. Perhaps partly the clouding of her mind due to the hit of liquor, but for some separate reason she felt comfortable and carefree.

Flames of uncertainty began to flicker inside her chest as he brushed his hand over the length of her thigh, beginning to pinch the flesh beneath the fabric, but the sharp burn of desire engulfed her; began to uproot her convictions to the point that her body convinced her tender mind that everything she was feeling was alright.

She found herself overtaken by cravings of a depth her young body had yet to encounter. Her curious mind swamped by questions she never imagined herself capable of proposing; What would it be like to be taken by such a man? Inside, she cursed herself for even entertaining such a notion. But the Marquis was succeeding in working her into a false sense of security. No doubt his decades of charming women into bed had taught him a thing or two, perhaps provided the infamous roué with a sixth sense of sorts.

He saw it in her eyes. Her inner struggle between her righteous self and the want to satisfy such hankerings she had been sworn against giving into all her years on God’s earth.

“Ah, the perils of raw animal lust” he growled into her neck, as if reading her like a book. Had she truly been so transparent, had she lead him on?

The Marquis grasped her wrist, his glassy gaze bore into her, “Don’t fool yourself my cherub, it’s only natural.” It was verging on an out of body experience, somehow Charlotte didn’t connect herself with what was unfolding. Before she could utter another word, his mouth had engulfed hers, attacking her with the full force of pent up passion.

She found herself melting into his vigorous embrace, losing herself to his commanding touch. Hands working their way down her body, searching every curve relentlessly. He lingered on her lips, a sudden flick of the tongue and a brisk bite catching her off guard, she jerked back from his kiss. He tested her with his eyes, “Too much?”, he sniggered, burying his hands into the heavenly valley created by the cinching of her bodice. Her head jolted back, he took this as an indication she had submitted. He trailed kisses the length of her décolletage, sucking blood to the surface, every now and then meeting her trembling lips with such pressure it caused her head to spin.

What he wanted most, what he longed for, was to taste her. Taste her sweet innocence; her most prized possession was his supreme temptation. He lowered himself, raising his gaze level with her eyeline. He scraped his bony fingers up her thigh, casting the dense fabric aside. He slid his forefinger along the wet, fleshy ridge of her sex. She gasped, he continued working her moist lips apart with two fingers, her body quivering with the fierce contact of his hands. Her skirts now hitched about her hips, he shrugged off his frock coat, dipping further between her parted legs, dragging his tongue across the blushing flesh of her womanhood. She gasped as he slipped the tip of his tongue betwixt her wetness. Relinquishing control, she gave over to him completely, squirming as his lips brushed her clitoris, then taking her in his mouth. She was at his whim; allowing him to do with her as he please. “Please…” she panted. “Please, what?” he snarled, reaching to loosen himself from his strained trousers in one swift movement.

She felt vulnerable yet cocooned with his porcelain chest pressed against her with his arms bound around her shoulders, his nails digging into her unspoiled, silken flesh. But she was numb to it, the sole sensation the blaze amidst her loins.

He watched her wince slightly, bite her lip as her face twisted, bracing herself for his entry. He positioned, supporting himself with his arms trapping above her ribcage. With one powerful blow, he drove his throbbing cock into her unbroached passage, her virginal juices yielding to his first thrust, her channel taut around his member. She cried out, a deep growl rumbling in his throat as he filled her up, like a fist squeezing tightly around his member. Her arms slung around his broad back, instinctively forcing him closer to her, wanting to take his entire length inside her.

His sudden jerky rhythm sent shockwaves through her body, every jolt bringing her one step closer to oblivion. She could see the heaving rise and fall of his chest even more pronounced. The flimsy fabric clinging to his silhouette as his svelte frame pinned her to the lounge. Although he was not a heavily built man, he felt weighty sprawled atop her, pumping into her with such fury. Her pelvis arched to accommodate him, the angle allowing his strokes to stimulate her sweet spot. She stifled a moan, between gritted teeth he groaned, “Let it out you silly girl.” Afraid to displease him, she released her every thrill to meet his vocal indulgence. In her every moan he felt another surge of triumph. He grunted as he pounded her tiny orifice with maniacal intensity, balls contracting and smacking against her with his downward strokes.

His body bucked violently above her, he couldn’t hold back much longer. Her breathing quickened, short sharp breaths escaped as he groaned into her neck, stroking his hands through her mane of dishevelled chocolate curls. He quickened his pace, her hips answering his thrusting pelvis with abandon. She writhed, her skin caressing the soft velvet beneath her. She pressed down hard to meet his every upward thrust, obeying an instinct she hadn’t known she possessed. Just when she thought he had plundered every last inch of her, he thundered down upon her harder still. A mixture of burning and tingling was alive inside her, a bittersweet sensation thrashing at her insides, rapturous delight rocketing through her.

Consumed by this new state of ecstasy, every nerve twitching as her sheath tightened around his hardness, clenching as she drew nearer to the edge. His climax building up to hers, painfully close, he bit down on her shoulder. She yelped, the Marquis responded, devouring her mouth; silencing her. He ploughed into her deeper, his thrusts broken by their spasms, her legs forced yet further apart; the final thrusts sparking a fire she could not control. Waves of orgasm rolled over her and he erupted inside her, great shuddering spasms erupting between them; his pulsing life flooding her. An uninhibited cry of satisfaction escaped her as she lost herself to the blinding, pulsing moment of release.

Charlotte struggled to catch her breath. It seemed like hours he plundered her. Still swimming in ecstasy, he withdrew from her conquered channel and turned her on her side, letting out a ragged sigh. Feeling sore and violated, she opened her eyes and stared into nothingness. He pressed a finger to her temple, trying to turn her face toward him, but she couldn’t look him in the eye. She shook her head free, glimpsing his lips pressed into that cocky smile. “You can wipe that stupid smile off your face, I know what you’re about.” Cocking his head, he snaked his arm above her, snatching the cuff of his jacket draped upon the lounge. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, missy.” he scathed.

“You’re proud as punch you are, Marquis, I know you!”, she half teased. Yet the look that crossed her face told him a different tale; inside, she was shaking. But that didn’t serve to wipe the triumphant smile from his face. He stroked her hair, then tipped her chin up with his forefinger, “You make me weak, Charlotte…find it within you…not to hate me”, his possessive gaze and grasp unsettling her. “Tell me you’ll come to me again…”, he stroked her cheek, “Yes?”, he snapped, his crippled soul afraid of losing her.

Regaining composure, she pulled free and sat upright, “Perhaps, but only if you’re lucky.”, feigning her usual singsong tone. Struck, but not quite beaten at his own game, pride still glowing on his face. His relaxed posture suddenly tensing, a look of conceit fell upon his features as she turned her back without another word. He broke into a smug laugh as she swept out of sight.

A dark cloud of regret set in. What had she let herself be coaxed into? Submitted to the very man she was told would ruin any who fell into his clutches, including her. He had ravished her red raw, but she had loved every minute of it. Straightening herself out, she left the confinement of the cell far behind her, the Marquis’ cackling fading as she disappeared down the corridor.