Maid For More

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Description

When a friendly challenge between Lord Wycombe and Lord Standish leads to a bet, Lord Standish has only a few months to create the most debauched club in Town, selectively open to only the most elite members of the Ton.
But finding the right women for his Club is proving to be more of a challenge than Lord Standish expected.
When Lawson, Lord Standish’s valet, accidentally discovers a curvy scullery maid hungrily performing a very lewd act, he presents her to his employer as a hopeful candidate for the new Club.
Will Lettie Smith be just what the Infernalis Club needs?
Or will this naughty maid be impossible to train?
And what happens when Lawson begins to fall for the lusty wench?
Expect discipline & debauchery.

This book is part of the Infernalis Club Series. It is recommended that the books be read as part of the series, but they are also satisfying on their own. For mature readers.

Sample Chapter

Chapter 1 – A Bet Is Made

 

“That’s it, I am done with all of this nonsense over carnal relations,” Lord Wycombe declared loudly, slamming his hand down against the side of the bar in one London’s oldest clubs.

Lord Standish, who was standing next to his friend, raised his eyebrows. “You? Celibate?”

“Perhaps I am not willing to go quite so far as that. But I am sick of the nonsense. If I wish to dip my wick, I either have to pay for it, or,” Lord Wycombe shuddered, “marry for it.”

“Those would seem to be the standard options,” Lord Standish replied. “Don’t tell me you’ve become romantic?”

“I’m not looking for love, I’m just looking for a bit of fun. For a bit of passion. Someone who is in it for the fuck just as much as I am. Someone who wants to roll around, experiencing orgasm after orgasm until we are exhausted. And who is perfectly happy not to be kept.”

“So you want the comely maidens of sonnets, of lays, of fairy tales, of river banks and hay bales and starry nights,” Lord Standish said.

Lord Wycombe glared at his friend. “Yes. I want the worlds of Ovid, and Dryden and Donne.”

“What you want is Paradise Lost. And the willing wanton witty women of yesterday were savaged in the Dunciad, when its author threw them all in his own version of the Inferno. Some men just do not know how to appreciate a bawdy female.”

“Well, I do. And it isn’t that I don’t have women clamoring to get into my bed, it is just that they then come to me with expectations– widows who are looking for new husbands or fine new lodgings. Housemaids who slip into my bed and then expect additional coins added to their wages.”

“Well then, you need a way to make everything clear at the outset- tell them it is just fucking. Fucking merely for the sake of fucking.”

“And you think I haven’t? I’ve certainly not lured anyone with false pretenses. A tup in a garden folly while the others are observing the lake has never come with promises other than a fulfilling climax.” Lord Wycombe said.

“But there is your folly in a nutshell– engaging in carnal activity with only one female at a time. One man, one woman– it is easy to let one’s imagination run down the path of love.”

“Oh, is that how such things happen?”

“So people say. I’m fortunate to never have been so afflicted,” Lord Standish said.

“Careful, my friend– it will be all the worse for you when it does.”

“You assume that it will.”

“Yes, because you are altogether far too cocky that it won’t,” Lord Wycombe said.

“And you’ve been in love? A fine friend and mentor you are!”

Lord Wycombe laughed. He was several years older than his Town neighbor, but they had been friends for a very long time. In fact their families had been neighbors for generations. When Standish was  old enough for it, he had introduced him to some of the finest establishments in Town, with the most discerning Madams, a far more sophisticated atmosphere than what his younger friend had been partaking in while away at University. Standish was now edging closer to thirty, and Lord Wycombe was beginning to wonder if his friend might have surpassed his own knowledge on the subject. Surely, Standish had become even more jaded!

“Yes, I’ve been in love,” Lord Wycombe said, “or at least puppy love. Back when I was at University.”

“And this fine Miss– did she return your passion?”

Lord Wycombe smiled. “Measure for measure. And I’d likely have done something as ridiculous as propose to the wench.”

“I’m sure she would have made a fine Marchioness.”

“I’m sure my father, who was still living, would not have taken well to that.”

“And that is what stopped your marriage proposal?”

Lord Wycombe shook his head. “I learned the wench enjoyed herself the most when taken with a friend.”

“Your friend or hers?”

“He started out as my friend, although it would have been impossible for me to  know him on as intimate a level as she eventually did.”

“Impossible?”

“Well, not impossible, just not my cup of tea. If there is another cock involved in the fucking, I want it buried in her bottom. You know I prefer incunting, but I do love to watch a woman’s face as she spreads her nether cheeks for a good ass-fucking. My cock thrust deep inside a woman, while she struggles to accommodate another inside her narrow passage… it is a wonderful thing to behold. Even better if there is a bit of crying involved as she submits her bottom for the taking. And of course, it makes a tight cunt even tighter. I love a good group fuck– nothing like a woman’s moans when she is ridden fore and aft at the same time.”

“So, menage cured you of your puppy love?”

“And introduced me to something far better. That wench was one in a million.”

“What if she wasn’t?”

“She was no common fuck!” Lord Wycombe protested. “She was extraordinary!”

“I have no doubt she was a rare treat, I only wonder if you have your odds right. What is the probability of finding more wenches like her?”

“Good luck to you.”

“Thank you,” Lord Standish replied.

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I know. But I shall appreciate the luck anyway. May it bless my project.”

“Your project?”

“A Club, only the most exclusive one in Town… no, in all of England. There shall be no worries as to romance because no one will be in anyone’s private keeping. Any woman who joins must be open to all of us.”

“Fully shared?”

“One after another, or at the same time, or whatever strikes one’s fancy. The only requirements are her willingness, and the utmost discretion.”

“And you think you can manage such a project?”

“I expect I shall establish such a Club before the end of the year.” Lord Standish smiled. “A den of desires. It needs a good name though. Something that helps capture its spirit.” He rubbed his chin, deep in thought. “Some of the best, worst books I ever read were in Latin–”

“Hear, hear. And the art to go with it.”

“So, it seems proper to give us a Latin-based name.”

“Something appropriately lewd.”

“And yet, a bit of an entendre…”

“So Box-hall and the Pleasure Gardens would not be a good name?”

“Doesn’t sound like Latin to me. But I suppose I can give you credit for the Vauxhall pun. Accurate, but a bit too overt. I would like something indicating a subtler connection to the Club’s purpose.”

“The Club’s purpose is fucking. Presumably as many attractive, willing wenches as you can find. If you can find them.”

“I can find them. And I think I shall call our group The Infernalis Club. A nice little nod to the Hell-Fires, only we shall simultaneously be more debauched and more refined.”

“We?”

“It is my Club, but you are welcome to participate as a founding member.”

“I’m sure it would be my honor to participate in such a worthy endeavor.”

“You joke.”

“Yes, but I will offer my full apologies if you succeed. And will gladly claim my membership.”

“Do circle December 31st on your calendar. It will be the date of our first bacchanal.”

“Quite sure of yourself then?”

“Very.”

“Care to lay odds?”

“If I succeed, you’ll pay the expenses for the first year.”

“You’re that certain of yourself?”

“I might know a few women who might have an interest, as long as the other gentlemen were also to their liking. I’m not without some charms of my own,” Lord Standish smirked.

Lord Wycombe considered his friend- tall, muscular, a face that ladies seemed to swoon over– Standish was certainly far from ugly. In fact, Standish was considered to be one of the most sought after bachelors in England, those poor enterprising mothers completely unaware of the man’s truly debauched nature. But, being able to entice willing women into his own bed was very different than convincing them to join a private club dedicated to wild, hellish pursuits. No, Lord Wycombe shook his head, no matter how much women might enjoy a tumble with Standish, they weren’t likely to relish being fucked in every direction by numerous gentlemen. Although if they did…. why, he would be an absolute fool to pass up such an opportunity.

“You have my word as a gentleman. I’ll take your bet,” Lord Wycombe said.

“You seem rather convinced you’ll win.”

“I suppose I can’t lose. If I’m right, I lose nothing. If you’re right, well, then wet, wild and wanton revels await.”

“And paying the Club’s expenses?”

Lord Wycombe shrugged. “Losing myself inside a lovely, tight cunt while the woman in question is being ridden to the height of her senses, isn’t exactly losing. If you win, I’ll make the payments over the course of the year. It isn’t that I don’t have the blunt, I just don’t want my man of business to think I’ve lost my mind. Twenty-five thousand ought to do it, wouldn’t you say?”

“Rather beyond what I envisioned,” Lord Standish said, raising his eyebrows at the number.

“Then envision grander. This will be the ultimate Club, a true nonpareil. Enough so that its members will be afraid to break any rules, because they won’t wish to be thrown out of Paradise.”

“Twenty-five thousand it is,” Standish said, shaking his friend’s hand. “And on behalf of the entire Infernalis Club, I appreciate your extremely generous donation.”

“Quite grandiloquent of you given that there is no such club yet.”

“Ah, but there will be,” Standish said. “There will be.”

“Always so sure of yourself.”

“And why not?”

“It will be difficult even for you,” Lord Wycombe said.

“So, I’ll have Lawson and Parker assist me in my quest.”

“Your Valet and your- your–”

“Footman. Parker is First Footman, although really far more of a connoisseur of the female posterior.”

“And does your valet have a connoisseurship as well?”

“You’ll find out when the Club opens.”

“If it opens.”

“Just make sure your man of business knows that you will be writing a rather large cheque on New Year’s eve.”

“That is only a few months away,” Lord Wycombe noted. “Not much time for your Valet and your Footman to help you find the right women for such a Club.”

Lord Standish smirked. “I am certain we could find willing women in half that time.”

“If you emptied Convent Garden, and shook out Drury Lane, you could easily fill the Palace, but I thought you were aiming at a bit more— respectable and refined.”

“Respect is what one makes of it. And ladies can be taught refinement. I won’t be trawling poxy cesspools, but I shan’t turn away a healthy prospect for want of proper diction. Even a coarser maid can be taught some manners and enunciation.”

“Good. Properly enunciated vowels are always appreciated when they are made against my cock.”

“You joke again.”

“On the contrary, my old friend. I take fellatio quite seriously. I wish you luck on your quest for luscious ladies and diamonds in the rough.”

“Even if it goes against your bank account?”

Lord Wycombe laughed. “If I am to be charged for this debauched endeavor, make sure it is a very worthy one. And do make sure that your willing women are willing to engage in extended diction lessons. I don’t give a damn about a dropped h, as long as they are capable of an extended O. Ah, the joys of well emphasized enunciation!”

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