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Like a Flock of Goats, Descending from Gilead

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Sisi’s hair was to be washed the day before Franz came. She’d been feeling the weight of it, braided and pinned in a chingon at the base of her neck, and her scalp was tired. Feifalik had tried to soothe her into letting it go one more day, two more maybe, but Franz was coming and she had to look her best. 

Dressed in only a white slip, Sisi sat at the small vanity in her bedroom and tried to recount conjugations of Hungarian verbs. Gyula was supposedly back at court, and she would be speaking to him in his native tongue- only business things, of course. No sweet nothings would slip from her lips surrounded by so many pitcher sized ears.

Feifalik began by unpinning her previous work and letting the braids fall down until they hung barely an inch above the floor. She teased the plaits apart, dropping any shed hairs in the bowl set for that purpose. There were very few. Sisi’s hair was as strong and healthy as hair could get. It shone like a fresh horse chestnut, its waves and curls resembling the ocean on a breezy day. 

On the floor by the divian sat an enormous tub, pitchers of water, bottles of cognac, and a bowl of cracked eggs. Feifalik carried Sisi’s hair behind her as she walked to it, then eased the bundle into the tub. The air was filled with the heady scent of cognac. When mixed with eggs it created a brown foamy mixture which had to soak Sisi’s entire length of hair before she was satisfied. Her scalp was massaged, gently so, and the mix sat and soaked in while Feifalik went to get more water. 

“It’s looking beautiful,” she said as she began to rinse out the egg. “I think your portrait tomorrow will be lovely.”

“Franz always does a good job.” Sisi felt the water trickle across her head and through her tresses, which seemed to weigh twenty pounds when wet. Even if she lay on her bed with them spread on a dry sheet it would take four hours to dry, more if a rain was coming. 

“Count Andrassy is back from Hungary, they say, although his wife is in Köln at the moment.”

“Köln?”

“To see her nephew’s marriage. I think the Countess will be there for quite a while. Count Andrassy will probably be quite bored alone in the palace.”

“I’ll go and see him.” Sisi had her ulterior motives, but to everyone else she was merely being a good hostess. Feifalik continued to rinse her hair, pouring pitcher after pitcher of water and at some points having to pick the tub up and dump it out the window onto the roses. 

By the time it was all rinsed and combed and re-braided it was deep in the evening and time for her bath. Feifalik held her braids up while Damrau filled the tub with warm oil. She slid in to soak, letting the oil soften her skin and keep it supple. Her body shivered in anticipation at the idea of Franz touching her and then remarking upon how smooth she was. 

The oil was scraped off with curved metal instruments and Orlovskaya brought over her clothes. A wrap soaked in Kummerfeld washing water went around her neck, to keep the skin there high and tight, while another one soaked in violet vinegar went around her waist. Damrau had her face mask of freshly crushed strawberries ready on the nightstand. 

“Are you comfortable?” Orlovskaya asked. 

“As comfortable as I could be.” 

She dreamed of Franz all the way through the night, up through her cold shower and application of Creme Celeste. Her corset was being laced eye-wateringly tight when Damrau came in with the news.

“Count Andrassy will be seeing you today,” she said breathlessly.

“But I have the painting with Franz.”

“Mr. Winterhalter said it would be alright if the Count sat in. He makes you smile, Mr. Winterhalter said.”

He did more than make her happy, but nobody knew that. Sisi felt warm down to her core as she glided to the room where she would be painted, then left in privacy. Not even a servant stayed behind to adjust her veil as needed. 

As soon as the door closed he crossed the room and began to unpin her hair. 

“That took forever to do,” she complained.

“You look more beautiful without it.” He kissed her forehead, then buried his face in the freed locks. “And it smells wonderful.”

Franz worked his way around her head, then stood back and observed. The painting they’d started the previous time was farther along than it should have been, meaning that he’d never intended to work on it at all. She was very glad her husband was out that week.

A knock came at the door.

“Gyula?” Franz called.

“The same.” The count came huffing in, dressed in full uniform. “Sisi! What a delight to see you here.”

“You knew I’d be here.”

“It doesn’t make it any less delightful.” He kissed her on both cheeks, and then the lips. It was softly pleasant. 

Franz came up behind her and looped his arms around her waist. “You’ll have to share, Gyula.”

“Share?” Sisi broke the kiss. “I thought this was just a friendly gathering.” Gyula had his hands on her breasts, and Franz was muttering obscenities at a hook on her dress, so the friendliness was a touch more intimate than usual. 

Something on her back popped and there was a pinging noise.

“Whoops,” Franz said. “Can they fix that?”

“Later.” She shrugged out of the mass of tulle, which Gyula laid on a chair, while Franz began to unlace her. “Do we have to take off the corset?”

“I want to see all of you. And your count will probably expire if he doesn’t get his hands on your dugs soon.”

He pressed wet kisses down her spine at every loosened loop. Gyula, impatient as could be, yanked all four layers of petticoats off at once and had her hold his hand for support as she stepped out of her shoes. 

“Is it almost off?”

“Be patient, you Hun. This last bit is quite tricky.”

There was the sound of threads breaking and Sisi sighed. “Wild animals would have treated my clothes better.”

“Wild animals wouldn’t be half as charming or courteous.” Franz handed the corset off to Gyula and turned her around. Taking a bundle of hair in each hand, he arranged it so that her breasts were covered. “There. Now you’re our own Lady Godiva.”

Gyula tramped over and brushed it all back. “I like her better as The Birth of Venus .” His hands came up to cup her breasts, his thumbs pressing her nipples. Without his coat his shoulders looked smaller, and she could see a tuft of chest hair at the top of his shirt.

“You probably only looked at art books for the nudes.”

“Take off your coat, Franz. I won’t have you touching me fully dressed.” When she walked over to the chaise lounge she could feel her hair all down her back, swishing side to side on the soft spot of thigh directly under her bottom. Its weight made her feel less nude. On the lounge she spread it down her back like a blanket, hiding her body. 

Gyula was her obedient one and wouldn’t touch. Franz would made overtures towards it, but only as a tease. She had them both wrapped around her fingers. They stood next to her, trousers tented and hands folded expectantly.

“I can use my mouth for things besides complaints,” Franz offered.

“Later. Gyula, unbutton your pants and come here.”

He sprung into action, offering his cock to her like a servant with a serving tray. Flushed at the end with a darker contrasting foreskin, he fit easily into her mouth. She tasted soapy-salty precum and hummed. Her left hand played with her nipples while the right gripped the base of his cock. 

“Hold my hair back,” she commanded. Both Gyula and Franz helped, their four hands required to pick it up and throw it over the back of the lounge. Franz stroked her head as she moved to take the cock all the way down.

“You’re stunning,” he whispered. 

“Beautiful,” Gyula agreed.

Sisi turned her lower half so that her thighs fell open, swollen clit and labia exposed. The fuzz around it was damp with her arousal. Franz, ever obedient, dropped his face between her legs and began to work. His beard scratched at her inner thighs.  

Her build towards orgasm was fast and hard. Pulling her mouth free, she moaned and grabbed Franz’s head to make him go faster, harder, anything. Gyula sucked at her nipples and created a new wave of sensation. Flush mouthed and trembling, she came with a yelp and then fell back.

“That’s one, then,” Franz said. His beard was slick with her slick. “Must be nice to be a woman.”

“Or to not be so old.” 

“We’re both older than she is.” 

“Me more than you. I’ve only got five years on her actual husband.” 

“Both of you hush, I’m trying to enjoy this.” Sisi blinked her way open and glared. “I wanted to ride someone. Who will it be?” 

She closed her eyes and made a game of picking. It was Franz, of course, since his back was bad and he couldn’t bend well. She straddled his lap, Gyula holding her hair back, and sank down onto his cock. The fabric of his trousers was scratchy on her legs, just like how his beard was scratchy on her breasts. 

Inside of her was comfortably full. Franz was thinner than Gyula, a nice warmup. Sisi motioned for her hair to be let go and then slid up and down Franz’s cock. He rubbed a thumb against her clit, making her tighten around him and sigh.

“Very good,” she said. “But grab my waist instead.”

Gyula grabbed her as well, and his and Franz’s hands overlapped around her waist. The edges of her hair floated as she bounced. There was a moment when it got in her mouth, and she had to stop to pick it out, and Franz had laughed.

“There’s some in your beard,” Gyula grumbled at him.

“In yours, too.”

Sisi shoved Franz’s head between her breasts and rolled her hips back and forth. By the way his cock was twitching he was certainly close.

“Fill me up.” Her breathing was ragged, sweat trickling down her back and an ache warming her thighs. “I want to feel it slide out of me.”

Franz moaned and thrust upwards. Sisi yelped and grabbed the back of the couch, Gyula holding her steady. 

“Is it my turn?” he asked. “Because I want you almost like this.”

“I’m still here,” Franz protested. He kissed Sisi on the mouth. Gyula pulled her off of Franz’s cock and on her feet, although she was still kissing Franz.

Bent over her hair dusted the floor it was so long. She curled her head into Franz’s neck and arched her back, getting ready. Gyula was rougher, with a thick cock and a penchant for making her entire backside ripple with the force of his thrusts. A trail of cum slid down her leg and she shivered.

“I’m going to have you properly,” Gyula said. “Franz, you have to hold her.”

“Who’s in charge here? Franz, you have to hold me.”

“I already said that.”

“Hush and get to fucking me. I’m cold.”

He obeyed, hitting her back wall with the first thrust and making her yelp. 

“Be gentle with her. She’s a lady, you brute!”

“Ignore him. Harder!”

Gyula grabbed her hair at the roots and pulled. Franz held her breasts so they wouldn’t bounce and the contrast set her alight, one set of hands being gentle while the other carelessly grabbed. Her locks swished and tapped at her calves, piles of it laying on the couch or curling across her back. Franz tried to keep it out of her face, but it stuck to her damp skin.

“Can you touch yourself?” one of them asked. She dropped a hand to her clit and rubbed. There was wetness beyond her normal arousal, a reaction to how well she was getting fucked. 

“I’m-”

“Shhh.” Her hair was combed by fingers. Gyula was so deep inside her she couldn’t move. Her fingers worked faster until she hit orgasm, a shock up her system that left her breathless. 

“That’s the second, isn’t it?”

“Don’t know. I’m close.” The heat in her cunt grew as he pounded away. Surely she’d be wincing and sitting gingerly the next day. Or maybe he’d have her again, using his tongue instead of his cock to push her over the edge again and again. 

Gyula came, adding to the slick mess down her legs. There was a giant reshuffling and she ended up laying on the couch, hair cast over the top so it wouldn’t stick to her body. Her two men wanted her to cum again, and practically fought over who would get to do it, all while she panted. 

“You got to do it first, so now it’s my turn.”

“And you want to lick up my seed?”

“Mine’s there as well. And it all tastes the same once it’s out.”

“Disgusting.”

Gyula rolled his eyes and settled between her thighs. Sisi tugged on his thick black hair and squeezed his head between her legs. Franz was behind her playing with where her hair fell on the floor, tugging at individual curls.

“I want to paint you like this,” he whispered. “I want you wearing only your hair. It’s the one garment good enough for your beauty.”

Sisi yelled when she came. Her body was spent, soaked in cum and sweat. Her two men would re-dress her later, arrange her hair into something presentable and maybe pretend to work on the painting. But for now they would lay together in silence. Franz had her head in his lap and her breasts in his hands while Gyulas had crawled up to lay on her stomach. 

Here she was, happy and content, like Rapunzel come down from her tower.