BySandra Harris, writer at


“I have a spot of bad news for you, I’m afraid, old boy,” said Sir Daniel Rochester to Anna’s older brother, Sir Blaise Carfax. They were both in the luxurious surroundings of Madame Corinne’s exclusive establishment for titled gentlemen. In a moment, Madame Corinne herself would bring them a selection of the most attractive young females her establishment had to offer, but for now, on the instructions of Sir Daniel, she was allowing them a chance to speak a while in confidence.

“Bad news?” echoed Sir Blaise. “You might as well give it to me straight, old fellow. These things are always best gotten over quickly.” Sir Daniel lit another fat cigar and leaned back comfortably in his chair, crossing one long booted leg over the other.

“Well then, in that case, Carfax old boy, it’s like this,” he said. One lock of thick dark hair fell over his forehead and he pushed it back carelessly. “I’m engaged. I know that your sister Anna and I were supposed to be betrothed but Anna’s been missing for months now. I can’t wait indefinitely for her to be found. Even if she were to be found, the Devil alone knows what sort of condition she’d be in. I mean… Well, she might not be in a… in a marriageable state any longer. She might have lost her looks or her figure or even her ability to bear a child, anything. I’m sorry to do this to you, my friend, but there it is.” He exhaled a perfect ring of smoke into the air in front of them. Sir Blaise sighed heavily and said:

“It’s all right, Rochester. To be honest, I was half-expecting this, or something like it. You’re quite right when you say that there’s no telling when- or if- Anna will ever be found. The police, damn them to hell, haven’t a single bloody lead. I can’t in all conscience hold you to our agreement when I can’t keep my side of it by giving you Anna. Of course you’re free to marry when and whom you please. For what it’s worth, old boy, you have my blessing. Who’s the lucky female, by the way?”

“Lady Victoria Strauss,” said Sir Daniel smugly. Sir Blaise whistled through his teeth. Lady Victoria was beautiful and rich and from one of the oldest and most important families in England. After Anna, who seemed to be no longer in the running thanks to her abductor- blast his eyes, whoever he was!- she was the most sought-after débutante in Queen Victoria’s London.

“I say!” he exclaimed. “You lucky dog! How did you manage to bag such a prime filly?”

“With my natural charm and good looks, of course,” Sir Daniel smirked. Both men laughed. “Well, family connections might have had a little something to do with it as well,” admitted Sir Daniel. “The Strausses and the Rochesters go back a long way together.”

“Your father must be pleased,” remarked Sir Blaise. A dark cloud seemed to pass over his friend’s face.

“Yes,” he said abruptly. Sir Blaise, sensing a sudden coldness in the tone of their conversation, searched his mind for something else to say. He was about to make a remark on the recent inclemency of the weather when the door opened and Madame Corinne entered the room, followed by a line of six or seven young women, all of whom were gloriously naked.

“Gentlemen,” murmured Madame Corinne. “Please feel free to make your selection.” The two men viewed the line of attractive nude women through smoke-narrowed eyes.

“I’ll have Noriko and the little blonde one,” said Sir Daniel coolly. The tiny Japanese woman with small exquisite breasts and tight round buttocks came to stand silently beside Sir Daniel. So did a young blonde female with big full teats whom neither of the men had seen before.

“I’ll have the tall-ish blonde one,” said Sir Blaise.

“The gentlemen have chosen wisely,” said Madame Corinne, nodding in approval. “Please follow me now to your rooms.” The two men got up from their comfortable leather armchairs and allowed the older woman to precede them out of the room and down the carpeted lamplit corridor.


Sir Daniel Rochester disrobed at his leisure while the two young women he had chosen stood silently by the bed and waited for his instructions. Sir Daniel enjoyed coming to Madame Corinne’s establishment. It was clean, comfortable and well-appointed and the old bird always had the best girls. They came from all over the world, the girls from Madame Corinne’s brothel, although the old girl had a fit whenever her discreet, luxurious establishment was referred to in such common terms.

He’d needed to come here tonight to take his mind off things. Off his bloody father, who was so keen for the match between his son and Lady Victoria Strauss to take place as soon as possible, and off Chrissy. He couldn’t even think about Chrissy now or he wouldn’t be able to perform. He forced his mind to go blank as he removed the last of his garments and tossed it carelessly onto a chair.

At nearly thirty-four years of age, he still had a fit, strong body that he knew would soften and coarsen as he grew older due to the abuse he routinely inflicted upon it in the form of strong liquor and opium consumption. For now, though, his hairy, muscular chest and powerful arms and thighs still had the power to make women go weak at the knees when they saw him naked.

Sir Daniel knew that he was handsome, in a darkly sinister sort of way. He had dark, heavy-lidded, almost hooded eyes and long thick black hair that was always coming loose from the ribbon with which he tied it back. He had full red lips that frequently curled back from his teeth in a snarl and a lazy sardonic grin that he revealed only occasionally. The fact that he didn’t care a fig for how he looked only served to make him sexually irresistible to the women whom he encountered.

“You,” he said to the blonde woman who stood beside Noriko now awaiting his pleasure. “I haven’t seen you here at Madame Corinne’s before. What’s your name?”

“Lucy, Sir,” she replied quietly.

“Lucy, eh?” he said. “That’s a pretty name. A pretty name for a pretty girl. Get on your knees.”

“Yes, Sir,” the girl said. She couldn’t have been more than nineteen or twenty. She was taller than Noriko, who was tiny, and she had lovely big round teats and buttocks. Sir Daniel approved heartily of the way in which this new young woman was put together. She knelt gracefully in front of him and wrapped her soft pink lips around his semi-erect member. He grunted a few times as she pleasured him expertly with her mouth. After a while, he pushed her away from him and said:

“Get up on the bed, both of you. Get up on all fours. That’s it, my pretties. Get those pretty arses up and those heads down.” Both women complied with his instructions and, when they were in place, he pushed his swollen member between the sex-lips first of one and then the other, alternating as he pleased.

They cried out when he smacked them sharply on their upturned rumps. Their discomfort only brought him more pleasure. He grinned, then thrust his manhood into Noriko’s tight rectum. She moaned in pain but he ignored her protests and continued to plunder her pretty backside until it pleased him to leave it and enter Lucy’s. Lucy moaned just as loudly at his entry and even pounded her fists into the bedcovers.

“Good girls,” he said as he attained his explosive climax over the submissively bent backs and buttocks of the women. “Good little whores. Good little tramps. There’ll be a nice bonus for the two of you from your Uncle Daniel tonight.”

While the two women collapsed onto the bed and lay there together, panting and holding hands and admiring him discreetly from beneath lowered eyelashes, Sir Daniel took a long rejuvenating swig of his brandy in the glass he’d left beside the bed and lit a cigar with fingers that now shook a little.

The two pretty little whores had managed to take his mind off his troubles for a time, but now he had to go home and take care of an irksome, unpleasant, almost certainly problematic task which he’d been dreading for days now. He had to tell Chrissy about his engagement.


This story is a work of fiction and comes (almost!) entirely from the imagination of Sandra Harris. Any resemblance to any persons living or un-dead is purely coincidental.

This story is copyrighted material and any reproduction without prior permission is illegal. Sandra Harris reserves the right to be identified as the author of this story.

Sandra Harris. ©


Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin, including The Irish Writers’ Centre, The International Bar, Toners’ Pub (Ireland’s Most Literary Pub), the Ha’penny Inn, Le Dernier Paradis at the Trinity Inn and The Strokestown Poetry Festival.

Her articles, short stories and poems have appeared in The Metro-Herald newspaper, Ireland’s Big Issues magazine, The Irish Daily Star, The Irish Daily Sun and The Boyne Berries literary journal. In August 2014, she won the ONE LOVELY BLOG award for her (lovely!) horror film review blog. She is addicted to buying books and has been known to bring home rain-washed tomes she finds on the street and give them a home.

She is the proud possessor of a pair of unfeasibly large bosoms. They have given her- and the people around her- infinite pleasure over the years. She adores the horror genre in all its forms and will swap you anything you like for Hammer Horror or JAWS memorabilia. She would also be a great person to chat to about the differences between the Director’s Cut and the Theatrical Cut of The Wicker Man. You can contact her at:

[email protected]


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