On a warm spring day Gilbert the butler of the LeRoux mansion opened the door to the courier from the Monarchy of Clitoria’s Ministry of War. He took delivery and sighed. The urgent letter was addressed to Louis LeRoux, who he dare not interrupt for another hour. Madame was also busy, but he knocked on her study door.
“Gilbert?”
“It’s here.”
“Bring it in.”
Marie LeRoux was sitting in her reading chair by the window, her knees apart and her skirt hiked up to her waist. The chauffeur, Marcel, knelt before her, his face buried in her pantyless crotch. “Give it here.” She ripped the envelope open and her face morphed into hellfire and fury. “Where’s Louis?” she asked as she pushed Marcel away.
“His office.”
Seconds later she burst in on her husband and his bodyguard, Angeline. His trousers were down and he was bent over his desk, his ass flaming red where she was thrashing him with a bamboo cane. “It’s here. Read.”
His face turned purple. “Where’s Alphonse?”
“His room.”
“Come. You too, my angel.”
Alphonse’s door was locked. “Who is it?” he called. Louis gestured to Angeline who spun to face away from the door and leaned forward and launched a ferocious back kick. The frame splintered and the door crashed open. Louis, followed by his wife and bodyguard stormed in.
“My God!” said Marie.
Angeline sniggered.
Even Louis paused to stare. There was his nude son, sporting an impressive erection, kneeling on his bed, ass in the air, face on the matress while behind him knelt the maid, Veronique, clad only in a strap-on harness, her hands still gripping his hips even though she’d paused fucking his ass.
“You! Out!” barked Louis. She grabbed her clothes and fled. “Alphonse! The Ministry of War says you haven’t applied for a commission in a Royal Regiment?”
“I want to be a real soldier, in the regular army, not an overdressed marionette parading around on a horse waving a sword.”
“What!? Volunteer for the regular army? Three years with commoners? When you could be with your fellow nobles and complete your civic duty in just eighteen months?”
Alphonse clenched his fists, but he bowed his head. “As you command, father.”
“No,” his mother said. “It’s too late. All vacancies are filled.” Alphonse failed to hide his glee.
“Impossible!” snorted Louis. “Tomorrow, Marie, you will visit War Minister Antoine. Find out what’s wrong. Use all your wiles, and get him a commission!”
Morning found Marie waiting for the Minister in his outer office. Shortly the door opened and a woman came out with a flushed face and a partially unbuttoned blouse. Confident of her boudoir skills, she smiled, but it was not to be.
“My dear Marie,” the Minister said, “please have mercy on an old man. You are the fourth mother to visit me today. I am not so young any more.”