Evil's Niece (14 page)

I smiled. He was about to receive something as sinfully delicious as anything my maid could serve up. Just looking at that fly, with the long bulge along one side of its seam, gave me the confidence I needed to go through with this outrageous stunt.

I paused with my hands hovering above his knees. Then I let them rest there, savouring his strength when he parted his legs so I could crouch between them. He reached surreptitiously beneath the table cloth to stroke my face, lingering as though he already knew I wasn’t his little maid.

‘And what do you think of your brother’s being chosen as our candidate?’ the man beside him asked. I didn’t recognise the voice, but he wore pale grey trousers that should’ve been a size larger. ‘If he scratches the right backs and keeps his nose clean, it could mean a run for the governor’s chair down the road.’

Dewel shifted, ostensibly to address this question — but it also opened him to my attentions. His fly was already undone.

‘Chapin has always been the quintessential politician,’ he replied in a thoughtful drawl. ‘Has the looks to attract the ladies — which’ll make their men take notice — and the resources and reputation to carry his campaign as far as he cares to. Already talks the talk, and walks with all the right backslappers.’

As I coaxed the hardening shaft from his pants, I detected more resentment or rivalry than endorsement. Sadly enough, he’d described my husband to a tee yet hadn’t said anything very flattering. Not that I expected Dewel to kiss anyone’s backside on his brother’s behalf.

‘Will his wife be a problem? They say with her northern upbringing — St. Louis, isn’t it? — she doesn’t always cotton to the ways of the Southern aristocracy.’

I sucked hard, running my rounded lips down the thick, warm piston poking out of his fly. He chuckled — I could imagine him smiling at his companion in that way that would let the man know nothing about what Dewel Proffit really felt about me.

‘Miss Eve should never be given the short end of the stick,’ the man in my grasp said with a breathy laugh. ‘Personally, I find her much better versed in current issues than most wives, and she’s not afraid to try new…exciting ways of doing things. Much as we good old boys love tradition, we need to recognise more satisfying solutions — more…mutually beneficial positions — allowing our ladies to…come with us, into the future.’

Dewel was doing his damnedest not to buck, while I — as a reward for his complimentary remarks — rapidly sucked and licked the engorged head of his cock.

‘Are you saying Chapin will promote women’s suffrage?’ came his companion’s reply. ‘If his wife doesn’t know her place —’

‘Oh, Eve Proffit holds her own wherever she is. Positions herself to maximum advantage, and has a strong…
grasp
of her husband’s political aspirations.’

His voice was wavering, yet he continued with a confidence that made me proud to know him; proud to pleasure a man with such progressive views. ‘She’ll wait until Chapin’s elected before making any radical moves — and by then, who can she hurt? Again, the women who envy her…skill and pluck will rally behind Chapin, to keep Miss Eve in the public eye.’

Was he fighting a grimace? Did his companion suspect what was going on in the nether regions beneath his napkin? His hips quivered, and then the first drops shot out, followed by a torrent of buttery honey. I gulped and swallowed, keeping the front of his trousers clean, and then licked all traces of his juice from his cock and the springy hair at its base.

His shaft remained stiff, so I thought it best to move on — to let Dewel get it limp enough to tuck back into his pants. His enthusiastic response to my sucking encouraged me; another caress was thanks enough as I moved from between his fine, long legs. Lord, but he was a sight from the thighs down, compared to those around him! I shifted carefully around all the other boots to my husband’s legs, for the waiters were setting down the main course now.

Monique grinned at me in the dimness, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The little minx had already serviced the man on the other side of Chapin, who was probably wondering why Senator Searcy and this fellow were both smiling broadly, agreeing with whatever he said! I scooted forward, glad the cool marble floor made easier work of moving around in these close quarters between eight sets of knees and the table’s pedestals.

But as I moved in to touch him, Chapin cleared his throat ceremoniously. ‘Gentlemen, I’m sure you’re aware of the vulnerability of any man holding public office these days — not to mention the time required to maintain his personal investments and properties, while he performs the civic duties he was elected for. With this in mind, I’ve procured a valet. A man who will assist with my mayoral affairs, and see to my personal safety in public.’

My mouth dropped open. Not a word had my husband uttered about such an employee: in deference to Fanny Frike’s feelings, he’d gone years without a valet after her nephew, Will, died in an unfortunate accident. I wondered if these
affairs
included Savanna. Would his new valet serve as his lookout?

‘Excellent idea!’ a man near Dewel responded.

‘You never know what those Republicans might try when your candidacy is announced,’ another man agreed.

‘Thank you, gentlemen. Your support is heartening.’ Chapin straightened in his chair — just as my hands almost landed on the tops of his thighs. ‘May I introduce Judd Schuck? You’ve no doubt noted his burly physique, and the way he’s been eyeing all of you as you ate.’

Laughter, followed by light applause, filled the little dining room. Monique’s hand went to her mouth when the legs she’d just fondled stood up to be recognised. Hopefully he was holding his coat over his fly, for he hadn’t had time to fasten it! Less humorous, however, was the prospect of Chapin having another ally at the house; demanding his own room, no doubt.

‘I’m hoping you’ll see fit to advance his salary as a party expenditure — which, of course, will come from my own coffers, should I not be elected,’ my husband continued. ‘His presence should help us all have a more enjoyable time at the parties I’ve planned — the first being a grand Mardi Gras-style costume ball at the house, a week from this Saturday, to announce my candidacy. You’re all invited, of course. Along with your ladies of the evening.’

There was a taut pause and then laughter broke out at Chapin’s turn of phrase. I sat seething beneath the table: once again the wife was the last to know, about the valet and now the magnificent social event I was expected to hostess! And now that my husband had charmed these important supporters by invoking that good-old-boy camaraderie — alluding to the courtesans they carried on with, just as he did — the golden Proffit had indeed reached the inner circle. Hosting a costume ball, so their mistresses could attend without being recognised by their wives.

Clever man, my husband.

I was no slacker myself. As soon as he sat back against his chair, I eased my palms over his thighs, stopping to allow his mental adjustment.

Chapin stiffened; not as inspirational as his brother’s reaction, given his willowy build. A tentative hand came under the table, bearing his father’s signet ring with the Proffit coat of arms. I gripped his fingers, kissing them to get his assent. Did he recognise the press of my lips? Or did he assume Savanna had hidden herself before he arrived?

Feeling bolder — with Monique kneeling beside me to watch — I slowly massaged my way up his legs, to the centre placket of his pants. While I’d always admired the trim figure Chapin Proffit presented in his fine clothes, I had to remind myself why I was going through this tricky ordeal: I wanted this man to want me. I’d had no illusions about why my family agreed to this marriage, yet I still hoped, in my heart of hearts, that it could evolve into a satisfying match.

If it didn’t happen now, it never would.

Chapin sat very still as I unbuttoned his fly, then slumped slightly so more of him would be hidden by the linen tablecloth. When I reached in to free his cock, I felt the pulse in his groin; the prick in my fingers shot up to its slim, solid length in seconds. If it was the blonde Savanna in his fantasy, well, she was just missing out!

Into my mouth he went, and I felt more than heard his eager sigh. He moved slightly, rocking to establish a rhythm that would eventually take him over the edge without the senator — or his new bodyguard — noticing. But then, since Judd had already received a sampling of the service here at the Beau Monde Club, he’d probably recommend it as a safe, discreet place for them to come more often. For lunch, of course.

Thoughts of the heavyset valet faded as I closed my eyes to concentrate. I stroked slowly up and down, pursing my lips to squeeze Chapin’s warm, corded length, circling the insistent shaft with my fingers to pump him. His downy hair rustled; a light musk enveloped me as I moved faster, driving him to a point that might make his agitation obvious to his tablemates. He deserved some of the same emotional turmoil he’d put
me
through! His subtle shifting told me he was getting close.

He had no way of knowing his wife was under the table; perhaps wondered how his resourceful young ‘niece’ had gotten here, to service him by surprise. I’d find a way to tell him — would insist I’d done it on a dare, yes, but because the possibility of public exposure seemed minimal, compared to the danger I felt our marriage was in. I was tired of being ignored! I didn’t really
care
if these gentlemen found out I was under the table. They’d gotten their share, and they’d be envious of Chapin for having such an adventurous wife.

Wouldn’t they?

My husband moaned audibly. He stiffened, about to shoot.

‘You all right, Proffit?’ the senator asked in a low voice.

‘Just a — cramp in my leg, sorry,’ Chapin rasped. And then he squirted his thick, salty come, reaching beneath the tablecloth as though to massage that aching thigh, but actually to hold my head in place while he finished.

I licked him, and then tucked his softening cock into his pants. When I was backing out from between his knees, however, he held me fast by clamping his legs together.

‘As we enjoy our praline cheesecake, gentlemen,’ he intoned in his newly acquired grand manner, ‘please accept my thanks once again for your guidance and generosity. Your presence means a great deal to me. I welcome any advice on how to become
your
next mayor!’

‘Hear, hear!’ someone from the other end piped up. There was a clinking of glasses, and then the eager scraping of forks across dessert plates as the chatter rose to a jovial level.

My heart was pounding, for I assumed Chapin would now peer beneath the table to see who’d sucked him. Instead, he fumbled in his pants pocket — and damned if he didn’t shove a wad of folded money at me! I took it, patting his thigh to signal my thanks.
Now
I had proof I’d been the one to bring him off!

I grinned at Monique, stuffing the bills into my shirt pocket. And as we waited, hoping the men we’d serviced would remain the souls of discretion by not lifting the tablecloth, I couldn’t help thinking how well this escapade had gone.

Too well perhaps?

Monique and I chattered happily to T-Jon all the way back to the house on Prytania, after making our escape through the Beau Monde’s back courtyard and adjoining alley.

‘And he
paid
you!’ my maid crowed, laughing each time she thought of it. ‘Why, I sucked four men to your two — and all I got was the thrill of being the mystery mouth under table. You’re
good
, Auntie Evil. Really, really good!’

*  *  *

Chapin, too, was in a buoyant mood when he returned home that evening, wearing a secretive smile only a few of us understood.

‘Well, my dear, the luncheon was a huge success,’ he said, reaching across the table at dinner to grasp my hand. ‘Took in more than forty thousand dollars! The men were all smiles — and by the way, I invited them to a Mardi Gras ball, a week from the coming Saturday. A party befitting the proud Proffit name, to announce your husband’s candidacy.’

I widened my eyes, as though his idea was new to me. ‘Chapin, that’s so
soon
. I —’

‘But you have your new maids,’ he said, with all the finesse of one who had no idea how to orchestrate such a grand party. ‘And it’s time I met them, don’t you think?’

As he levelled his blue-eyed gaze at me, I saw his usual challenge:
what do you do with all your time, woman? Are you spending it with that bastard Dewel?

I was about to defend myself when an ominous crash came from the kitchen.

‘You clumsy
idiots
. Look what you’ve done!’ Fanny’s voice rang out. ‘That china’s been in the Proffit family for three generations, and now it’s in pieces. Don’t you dare move! Miss Eve’s going to see this for herself — and then we’ll see who suffers for it.’

‘Begging your pardon, Mr Chapin — Miss Eve,’ the housekeeper said a few moments later. She came to the massive table, drying her hands in her apron as though she’d rather rub the skin off them than say what she had to. ‘Seems the new —
girls
have had an accident with some china. I knew you’d wish to
discipline
them yourself.’

Fanny’s announcement backed me into a correctional corner, for Chapin was observing how I handled my new staff — and Mrs Frike, by her very tone and the stance of her stout body, expected me to spank them. Monique’s method would immediately expose my new maids for the young men they were, so I tried desperately to think of an alternative. I’d had no practice at spanking. Nor did I wish to initiate the nasty fight Chapin would start when he saw cocks and balls popping out of their panties.

How would Monique handle this?
I fretted as I folded my napkin on the table. It was another big moment where I proved myself to my exacting husband, and I couldn’t bungle it.

‘Thank you, Fanny. I’ll take care of —’

‘Who made this big mess?’ a familiar voice cried in the kitchen. ‘Someone will confess, or I’ll hand out spankings all around!’

I fought a grin, for Monique had arrived in the nick of time! When I walked into the kitchen with my husband behind me, the centre of the floor was covered with shards of pale pink china — a pattern I’d never liked — and along the wall stood Cleopatra, Antoinette and Cinderella. They glanced at me, and then at Chapin, with fearful eyes before addressing my irate maid.

‘I had washed these serving bowls, as Fanny asked,’ Cinderella whined, ‘and I was carrying them back to the shelves when Toinette stuck out her —’

‘You tripped over your own feet, Miss Slippery Slippers!’ the redhead retorted.

‘And how do
you
see it?’ I asked Cleopatra, who stood nearest the door.

The queen with the coal-black hair shrugged, looking disgusted with her companions. ‘It was an accident waiting to happen. Mrs Frike’s been ordering us around, taking swats at our bottoms if we don’t move fast enough to suit her. I say we should all —’

‘Well,
I
say the three of you will await me in the parlour, on the settee,’ I replied, crossing my arms to give each of them a stern look. ‘Too bad this unfortunate moment will be Mr Proffit’s first impression of you — the servants he expects to perform
to perfection
at our Mardi Gras ball in less than two weeks. Now
go
, before my disappointment gets the best of me!’

I pointed towards the parlour, rather pleased with myself. Had Chapin and Monique not been present, I’d have pooh-poohed the loss of those ugly bowls with just a warning to the new maids and a private word with Mrs Frike.

My husband’s expression was impossible to read, as though he couldn’t believe domestics would spout off that way. Or else he’d caught their unusual names, and was studying them more closely than I wanted. He remained oddly quiet, crossing his arms.

Monique, too, had her arms crossed beneath the breasts that bulged in her short black dress. Her topknot flopped wildly with each incredulous shake of her head. ‘Shall I fetch that new birch rod I made, Miss Eve?’ she asked. ‘We had just such an occasion in mind for it — panties up this time, but they’ll feel the sting of those little knots. And they’ll realise that if we have to get it out again, they won’t be sitting down any time soon!’

Her gleeful demeanor gave me pause, but I could’ve kissed her for solving our problem of gender exposure. ‘Excellent idea. I’ll meet you in the parlour, and we’ll proceed.’

I left the kitchen with my heels clacking firmly on the floor, a sound those sissy maids would come to associate with their derrieres’ doom. Not that I relished another whipping, for everything within me abhorred corporal punishment. But Monique had opened a door I couldn’t close. And consistency was important when dealing with a staff learning the expectations and procedures in a household such as ours.

‘Do you always defer to your attendant on such matters?’ my husband’s voice crept up from behind me. ‘Miss Picabou impresses me as —’

‘Much firmer and more intimidating than I, don’t you agree?’ I cut in with a smile. ‘Discipline’s the best thing, in the short time we have to train these girls. I’m simply allowing my maid — and Mrs Frike — to put their superior expertise to work for us, my dear.’

‘And where did you procure these young ladies?’

Was that a warning edge I heard? I paused at the parlour door, deciding the three maids should overhear our conversation. ‘Upon several recommendations, I went to Miss Delacroix’s School for Domestic Endeavor. She has a reputation for providing only the finest domestics, so —’

‘And how did you choose
these
three?’ Chapin’s eyes flared with an icy-blue fire I only saw on rare moments, when he was more upset than he was letting on.

Something warned me not to divulge the truth about Monique’s acquisition, nor about the backgrounds of the maids themselves. ‘If you feel they’re unsuitable, this close to the ball, perhaps I should just —’

‘Get in there and do the deed,’ he said with an impatient wave towards the door. ‘No sense in prolonging this nonsense, or letting them think you’ve changed your mind. We’ll discuss this later.’

His tone grated on my nerves, but at least I was off the hook. I straightened my shoulders, and with arched eyebrows I entered the room where the three offenders awaited me. Monique was standing beside the fireplace, silently admiring the bundle of birch switches she’d bound at the bottom with bright red ribbons. Symbolic of the stripes soon to be crossing their backsides, I gathered.

‘Mr Proffit, may I present Cleopatra…Antoinette…and Cinderella,’ I said as each maid stood and curtsied in turn. ‘Despite what you must think, I assure you these young ladies will be more careful with the china in the future.
Won’t
you, girls?’

‘Yes, Miss Eve,’ they chanted. They were a demure lot in their ankle-length grey dresses and pinafores — except for Cinderella, who was admiring her reflection in her shiny black shoes.

A loud
tap, tap, tap
of the birch’s handle against the mantelpiece brought them to attention. ‘Well, ladies, shall we proceed?’

Monique gestured towards a straight-backed chair in the centre of the room, where I sat down as though it were all a part of our plan.

‘You realise, of course, that a second offence like this means a birching with your drawers down around your knees — even if Mr Proffit is present,’ my maid continued in her imperious tone. ‘Cleopatra, your insolent remarks about Mrs Frike have earned you the dubious honour of going first,
non
? Assume the position. Across my lady’s knee!’

Hoping my eyes didn’t get as wide as the raven-haired servant’s, I sat straighter. What did one
do
with a twenty-year-old male bent over her lap? Neither Cleopatra nor I had much time to ponder this, for Mistress Monique took him by the arm and practically tossed him across my legs. With great ceremony, she then folded the grey uniform and the muslin shift up over the maid’s back, to expose a ripe young ass covered only in a layer of ruffled white cotton.

‘Four strokes with the birch,’ Monique announced, ‘and another if you cry out, or try to cover your butt with your hands.’

I held my breath, watching Monique position herself beside me — so Antoinette and Cinderella had to watch — and take a couple of practice aims. The other two offenders sat even straighter when Fanny Frike walked in to stand behind their settee.

Whisss-smack
came the first whack, and I thought Cleopatra might jerk right off my lap. Directly in my line of vision, that firm young butt puckered, while his thighs remained tight.

Whisss-smack…whisss-smack.
With great precision, Monique landed her birch bundle so the entire cotton-clad surface felt the sting of her discipline — and hopefully the rest of him felt a humiliation that would encourage his penitence and better deportment.

Whisss-smack
came the fourth blow, and the young man in my lap let out a hiss of injury he hadn’t acknowledged otherwise. He felt very warm, with his stomach covering one of my legs and his ass bubbled up over the other. His erection prodded the inside of my thigh, enticingly close to my sex. I cleared my throat, determined not to fall prey to such fantasies and…fascinating scenery, while we were being watched.

‘And while you apologise — to both Miss Eve and Mrs Frike,’ Monique announced to the maid in my lap, ‘Antoinette will take her position. You girls would be finished in the kitchen and doing other work if we weren’t punishing your foolishness!’

Cleopatra mumbled a ‘So sorry, Miss Eve,’ and rose up after discreetly lowering her skirts, appearing feminine again, in every way. Her olive face had two bright pink spots for cheeks, and those defiant dark eyes glistened with tears she refused to shed.

In her place, I could not have remained so poised — which suggested she’d taken a lot of punishment from Honore Delacroix. Yet another point I meant to challenge the headmistress about, when I finally saw her!

‘Palms on the floor!’ Monique commanded Antoinette. ‘Four whacks, for whatever you did to make those dishes fall. Because
you
were the agitator,
non
?’

The russet-haired maid barely had time to roll her defiant eyes and raise her skirts before the first smack landed. She sucked air — and so did I — and then braced her backside, drawing the frilly drawers into her crack.

Again I was taken by surprise at how alluring this view could be; how utterly sensual it felt to have a young man’s weight suspended across my legs while he remained at the mercy of Monique’s birch — and his own libido. I could feel him growing hard against my thigh.

Whisss-smack
and Antoinette flinched with the bite of those little birch teeth.

Then Monique paused, with her bundle poised, a calculating look on her face. The object of her discipline didn’t dare look over his shoulder to see what was going on, but after a few moments of unrealised anticipation, the muscles of that ass relaxed into a rounded cushion that just begged me to caress it. My palm wanted to feel the give of that warmed flesh through those thin, white panties, if only to soothe —

Whisss
—

I caught my breath — and my hand! — just as the whack landed, and then the fourth one found its mark on the lowest part of the buttocks. Were those shimmers of heat rising from that quivering skin? Or were my eyes fogged with wanting and concern? The flimsy fabric of those white panties couldn’t be much protection, and my own backside ached in sympathy as Toinette made her apologies.

‘Your turn, little princess.’ Monique stood beside me, lowering her birch bundle so its handle hit the back of my wooden chair.
Tap, tap, tap
came that ominous sound, and Cinderella paled as she approached.

‘I — I didn’t
mean
to trip and drop those dishes. I’m just a clumsy little fool, and I shouldn’t pay attention to Toinette’s teasing about my —’

‘Shut up and assume the position,’ my maid barked. ‘We haven’t got all night! And remember, sweet Cinderella, you’ll get an extra whack — or two! — if you bawl like a baby, or try to cover that naughty little backside!’

The slender blonde beseeched me with huge eyes already brimming with tears, but bent obediently over my lap. With dainty precision she turned back her skirts, steadied herself with her toes, and then gripped the leg of my chair.

Tap, tap, tap
went the handle of that birch rod again, which made Cinderella quiver while her two companions felt safe enough on the settee to snicker. They received a simultaneous cuffing from Fanny, who witnessed these goings-on with great interest, and kept her pudgy hands on their shoulders to maintain order. Cinderella, meanwhile, was already shaking like a scared rabbit, and I just wished Monique would be done with this.

‘You might be Miss Picabou’s aunt, but you can’t be
evil
,’ came a murmur from around my ankles. ‘You have the most exquisite feet I’ve ever seen.’

Whisss-smack
came the first stroke, and then the second followed close behind, covering the rest of the buttocks staring up at me. It shimmied beneath the frilly panties, being softer and less muscled than the other two. The tender skin was turning pink beneath the pale fabric, and Cinderella’s stomach lurched with her efforts not to cry out.

The next
whisss-smack
filled the parlour with its hiss, and then with the caterwauling the maid couldn’t hold back.

‘Please, please! I’m
so
sorry —’

Whisss-smack
and then one slender arm jerked back to cover a butt that had to be burning. The only merciful thing to do was hold Cinderella’s wayward hand against her side, out of the birch’s way.

‘One more, because we won’t tolerate sissies and cry-babies,’ my maid crowed.

And with that final, extra whack she turned Cinderella into a sad, hunching bundle that hugged my legs. I released her hand, ready to chide Monique for such a bloodthirsty display — after all,
anyone
could drop dishes! But her dark look and slight shake of the head held a warning I sensed I shouldn’t ignore.

And lo and behold, once she stopped whimpering the blonde stood up, straightened her skirts, and faced me with a watery-eyed smile. ‘I’m so very sorry about your china, Miss Eve, and I promise to be
much
more careful with your belongings. And thank you, Mistress Monique, for spanking me with such firmness and fairness. I feel…humbled and penitent. Ready to be a much better domestic now.’

No one expected such a heartfelt remark, and before any of us could react, Cinderella went on. ‘Cleopatra and Antoinette might not admit it, but we’re all terribly grateful that you’ve taken us into your home and under your wing, Miss Eve.’

She dismissed herself with a little curtsy, and I reached for her hand. ‘And why is that?’ I asked — not to torture her more, but because her statement piqued my interest. Anything she said might prove useful, if Honore Delacroix got confrontational during our home visit.