The Erotic Adventures of Ambrose Horne by Chrissie Bentley

Author:Chrissie Bentley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Xcite Books
Published: 2010-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

The Strange Case of the Loquacious Prince

Even with her head bobbing up and down in his lap, she was a riveting conversationalist. ‘It really is too bad,’ she complained. ‘The man is a Prince, for goodness sake, privy to all manner of sensitive issues of state. Yet he cannot even keep from blabbering about a simple Gentleman’s Club.’

Ambrose Horne stroked her hair. ‘Hardly simple,’ he mused between tight, ecstatic breaths. ‘In fact, I don’t believe there’s another society such as this any place else in the world. And believe me, I would know.’

Indeed he would. For a decade now, since he attained what he considered his maturity, Ambrose Horne had thrown himself into exploring every avenue of human sexuality that he could uncover, whether they were the delightful short routes that ended in the so-called Missionary Position, or the more enticing, teasing, twisted journeys that led to who-knows-where.

His renown spread as his knowledge grew. Three years ago, he had set himself up as a one-man Private Detective agency, his avowed pledge to maintain the utmost discretion almost immediately leading him into situations for which his natural inclinations had already developed a taste. Although he was never one to camouflage his beacon beneath a bushel, even Horne himself was sometimes astonished to contemplate the dizzying universe of carnality into which he had plunged, and continued to be plunged whenever he was summonsed to a new investigation.

This latest commission, however, promised to be stickier than most – the pun was unintended; his orgasm was completely unexpected, and he broke his train of thought to apologise to the woman whose cheeks were now drenched in his spray. ‘Never mind,’ she smiled, rubbing it into her flesh with two fingertips. ‘Nature’s own face-pack.’ Then her pretty face turned serious. ‘I just wish other mistakes were so easily remedied.’

The woman – she styled herself Mother Cassandra, although Horne doubted whether her own religious calling would be recognised by any Church in the land – was matriarch of one of the most fascinating societies that Horne had ever encountered. Licentious clubs that catered to the more esoteric carnal voyager he had frequented by the dozen over the years. For there were, indeed, as many such clubs as there were predilections to be entertained therein.

But he had always left them with a bad taste in his mouth ... a taste, he hastened to add, that had nothing to do with the personal hygiene of the ladies therein. No matter how decorous, how class-conscious, how pretentious those establishments liked to appear, at the end of the day, they were nothing more than common knocking shops, bawdy brothels in which the rich and indolent spent their cash as readily as they spent their passion.

Mother Cassandra, however, accepted no money for the services that were enacted within her premises; nor were her doors opened to anyone who wished to see inside. Members were carefully vetted in every corner of their lives. They were followed, scrutinized, spied upon for months, even

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