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Five hundred years ago in the French court in Paris, the Beauregard-Wilmottes were low-level members of the King’s entourage. The Beauregard-Wilmotte women were chambermaids; the men emptied privies.

Over the next hundred years, they worked their way up the courtesan ladder. The men serviced female royalty. “You there, Beauregard-Wilmotte, my cunny is in need of a tickle this morning.”

“Yes, Your Highness. I am honored.” By the time of the French Revolution Beauregard-Wilmotte men were known far and wide for their skillful tongues. It was because of their talent that Frenchmen earned the reputation of making love with their faces.

However, it was the women of the Beauregard-Wilmotte family which accounted for their rise.

Over that hundred years, they became experts in the art of fellatio. Those Beauregard-Wilmotte women became so talented that French kings sent them to other European courts to teach their women the proper and most delightful ways to service royal cocks.

They were so talented that French kings sent them abroad to close the deal on treaties. In one eastern European principality the prince refused to send the current Beauregard-Wilmotte back. “My manliness is attached to her pretty mouth,” he declared, sending a carriage full of gold and silver instead.

Something else happened. Beauregard-Wilmotte women not only developed expertise, but they developed a need. Humans have a need for food, water, air. Beauregard-Wilmotte women also developed a need for semen.

Back to the present. Elvira Beauregard-Wilmotte called it a craving. It was more than that: it was life itself. Over the next year, three or four times a week, she shared Prince Harold’s bed, and most of that time Elvira was on her knees.

Men are men the world over. Prince Harold could not keep it a secret. That’s why he insisted on the bright red lipstick and he just had to tell his friends, fellow displaced princes and other royalty who visited Switzerland about the young beauty who eagerly serviced his manhood.

On numerous occasions, after too much alcohol, one of these ‘friends’ convinced Prince Harold to share his good fortune, and Elvira found herself on her knees, her bright red lips sliding up and down the cock of a man in his forties, fifties even sixties. Like Prince Harold, they rewarded her not with cash, but with jewelry, cars, real estate.

There were royalty from throughout Europe. There were royals from Asia and Africa. Elvira did not discriminate. Cock was cock, as long as it was attached to a wealthy member of a royal family.

Into her twenties her reputation within this royal circle was well established and she was in high demand. At events where people of this class gathered: Formula One races, gallery openings, royal weddings and funerals, single men, divorced men, married men all whispered in her ear.

“My home in Bordeaux’s wine country is lovely at this time of year, Mademoiselle Beauregard-Wilmotte. Perhaps, we could spend a weekend there?”

Left unsaid was the quid pro quo: a weekend of extraordinary blowjobs in exchange for whatever he offered. Elvira made sure it was worth her while. By the end of the weekend, the prince, count, duke or whomever was always satisfied with the bargain he’d made.

Mademoiselle Elvira demonstrated not only her gift, but to these men’s joy, she was insatiable and innately knew just the right words to excite a man. “Your Highness, I’ve never enjoyed a cock as much as I’ve enjoyed yours. My lips look forward to pleasing you again as soon as you’re ready.”

Or

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