The Girl From The Convent Ch 03

The morning of her wedding, Adeline woke up in the middle of a dream about Hélène to find her shift soaked and herself tangled in the sheets. She gingerly stripped it off, feeling a little sheepish at the slippery feeling between her legs but slightly excited as she wet a washcloth and wiped it away.

This day after her ordeal with the guards, a bundle had arrived, a gift from her fiancé, as Etienne L'Eveque referred to himself in the accompanying note. Inside was a dress of fine pale blue muslin and instructions to wear it on the day that he returned for her. Also there were underclothes; while the nuns and novitiates could dress as they pleased under their habits, the note explained, she was to be a lady of this world and thus must dress appropriately. She pulled her spare shift over her head, followed by her short stays -- a garment which she had only ever seen in illustration and fumbled with for several minutes before discerning how it was to be used -- petticoats, and fine silken stockings completely unlike the coarse woolen set she wore in the winter. Finally, she pulled the dress over her head. It was cinched underneath her now ample bosom and fell to the floor from there. The short stays held her breasts up just underneath her collarbone, and the low neckline of the gown exposed them like two pale melons offered up on a platter.

When she had last laid eyes upon the outside world, some nine years before, she remembered the fashionable ladies all wearing much more elaborate dresses, festooned with ribbons, and high white powdered wigs. This was much simpler, she thought, much more elegant.

She braided her hair up and tucked it again under a white laced cap. Looking at herself in the same flawed looking glass, she saw that she filled out the new dress quite nicely, and hoped that, this time, she would be walking through the convent gate a married woman of the world.

This time, Sister Mathilde did not have to drag her. She walked, maintaining a stately gait, through the cloister, casting a haughty eye on Bernadette, who was laboring, elbows deep in a pile of goat manure, to fertilize the gardens. They made their way across the grounds of the abbey, back up the stairs into that small, barren room, which had not changed a whit in the year that had passed.

This time, instead of dwelling on Hélène, she thought of Gabriel and Julien, the two louts that had had their respective ways with her several weeks beforehand. She had waddled around awkwardly for days afterwards, trying to ease the ache in her bottom. But then, as often as she tried to dismiss the encounter from her mind, she found she could not stop thinking about it, no more than she could quell the heat that rose in her nethers every time the memories flitted across her mind. In hindsight, the strength with which they had gripped her was at once painful and exciting, in her memory, the pain of her violation was erotic in and of itself.

When her betrothed arrived, accompanied again by the Abbess, she did not need to force herself to look him in the eye. Instead of avoiding his steady blue gaze, she met it defiantly, jutting her chin out and examining him with the same judgmental stare that he gave her. His hair, still full and blond, had been cropped shorter and, were it not tied back, would have fallen around his chin. This time, she took a good look at him, his broad shoulders and chest, how his leather trousers clung to well-shaped calves.

"Will you take her this time, Monsieur L'Eveque?" the Abbess asked nervously. If he decided he did not like her this second time, there was always the chance he'd leave her there, without any further contributions to the abbey.

"Fetch the priest," he said, tersely, "Both of you."

"I thought we would go to the chapel..." Sister Mathilde began, but was stopped by a sharp look from the Abbess.

"Very well, Monsieur, but I expect you to honor your side of the bargain," the Abbess said.

Adeline looked at her, seeing the cold glitter in the aged woman's gray eyes.

"Of course I will," Etienne said, not taking his eyes from the girl.

This time, Adeline had an idea of what was coming as the door slammed shut behind the two nuns and braced herself for whatever cruelty he had in mind for her this time.

"I see the good Sisters of Humility have done right by me this time," he said, smiling slightly and narrowing his eyes at her, "Get on your knees," he said.

She obliged, kneeling on the cold wood floor.

"Good girl," he said, approaching her and caressing the top of her head through her cap as a master might a favorite hound. Still standing before her, she saw his hands go to undo his trousers and caught a whiff of his manhood, somewhat like that of Gabriel's, but at the same time different. She shuddered involuntarily at the memory of the guard's throbbing member being forced down her throat, and tried not to gag as Etienne pulled forth his half-hard cock from his trousers.

"Do you know what to do with this?" he asked, shaking it in her face.

She looked up at him, all the bravado gone from her dark eyes, and shook her head pleadingly, "Please," she whispered, "Please don't..."

At her words, his manhood began to grow before her eyes, and she took in a sharp breath of air to see that, fully erect, it was larger than either of the two she had seen beforehand. She looked up at him again, genuine fear on her face, pleading silently with him. To her relief, he put both hands comfortingly on her head and petted her again for a moment. This time, though, his hands locked at the back of her head and she found her face being guided roughly towards his manhood. She opened her mouth involuntarily to protest, and quickly found her lips shoved against the base of his cock. She gagged again and again, trying vainly to draw a breath as he plugged her throat. Saliva flowed freely from the corners of her mouth as he drew her head back sharply and plunged it back between his legs. She struggled a moment, but found that this made it more difficult to breathe as he responded by thrusting down her throat even harder. Finally, she went limp, let her jaw hang slackly, and allowed him to have his way.

"Don't give me that, you bitch," he groaned, "I thought you were different from the other girls! Suck it!"

She obeyed, pulling it into her mouth as she had to Gabriel's much smaller cock, moving her tongue up and down the shaft as he pushed it into her face again and again. She found that, when she cooperated, he eased up a bit, allowed her to take long, drawn out breaths as she clumsily caressed the tip of his cock with her tongue.

"Good girl," he sighed, pulling her mouth back down onto his cock, "Yes, that'll do quite nicely..."

He allowed her to breathe, and adjust to taking his manhood down her throat, for a few minutes, but soon grew impatient with her. Without warning, she felt his hands grip the back of her head roughly and he began to thrust into her mouth much as Gabriel had. The difference between this man and Gabriel, however, amounted to four or five inches, that is, four or five inches that got crammed solidly down her throat with every thrust instead of sort of poking at it. Thankfully, this sudden brutality was indicative of his proximity to climax, and within a few moments, he had thrust agonizingly hard, and she felt the base of his cock pulsate between her lips as he loosed his seed. With Gabriel she had had to force herself to swallow the viscous stuff, but with the tip of his cock shoved so far into her, she had no choice in the matter, and simply had to let it slide down her throat as he withdrew from her mouth.

She coughed a bit, tasting his salty issue in the back of her mouth. She calmly wiped her mouth and her eyes -- she hadn't even realized throughout the ordeal that tears had been pouring from them -- and stood up, looking at him defiantly again. This time, it was he who averted his eyes, avoiding her gaze. She counted this as a small victory -- as much of a victory as she could expect given that she had just had windpipe all but crushed by a man's cock.

They stood there silently, while she arranged her hair under her cap, and made sure that nothing was amiss with her clothing, all the while keeping her eyes on his. She remained silent as Sister Mathilde and the Abbess arrived, along with a priest that Adeline did not recognize. She remained silent as the proper words were said, binding her and Etienne as man and wife, voicing her consent in the form of a nod, and it was silently that she and her new-made husband walked through the gate of the convent. She threw one contemptuous glance behind her old home as two of Etienne's servants hurried ahead of them with the trunk that held all of her worldly belongings and stowed it under the small coach that would, presumably, convey them to her new home.

"Let me give you a hand there, Madame L'Eveque," one of the servants said, offering her an arm to step up into the carriage. She looked at him, and bit back a gasp of surprise to see that it was none other than Julien, whose nethers had made life so uncomfortable for her for a week or so. She took his arm, and he winked at her as she clambered onto one of the fine cushioned seats. She glanced back to see the other servant, and as she had half expected, his partner in crime was standing at the back of the coach, grinning knowingly at her. She quickly sat back, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks, and realizing that it was not the two boors in her new husband's employ that she ought to be worried about, but the blue-eyed devil that now sat across from her, and was busily drawing closed the curtains.

"Wait -- please, sir," she said softly as he did so, "I had hoped I might see the countryside. It has been so long..."

"The countryside, eh?" Etienne commented, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Yes, sir," she said, her voice pleading.

"You're sure you want the curtains open?"

"Yes, sir," she said again.

He shrugged, "Suit yourself. The ride is a bit over an hour, you know."

"Thank you, sir," she said, smiling in what she hopped was a winning fashion. He looked at her with something like approval as he opened the curtains again. She was looking out over the rolling hills she had seen as a child. It was early summer, and she could see, even from so far away, the small, green bunches of grapes in on the vines, and the buds of sunflowers not yet blooming in the fields and vineyards below. The carriage clattered over the uneven road, bouncing its occupants up and down. She was grateful for her thick petticoats and the fine cushions beneath her bottom. If this kept up, she thought, she would be worse off than after Julien had had his way with her!

"The dress suits you," Etienne said.

"Thank you, sir," she said. Perhaps he would treat her with civility for some time, she thought, for this comment seemed entirely innocuous, a proper thing for a husband to say to his young wife.

These hopes, of course, were swiftly dashed.

"Take it off," he commanded.

"Please, sir," she said.

"You asked for the curtains to be open," he said mildly, "I did not force that on you."

She looked out to see not only the fields and farms that she had gazed upon before, but the peasants working them.

"Are you going to do as I say, or are you going to defy me?" he asked.

She sighed heavily as she untied the ribbon under her breasts, hiked up her outer skirts, and as gracefully as she could, tugged the blue gown over her head. She folded it and set it on the seat beside her, and glanced out of the window. Her cheeks went hot as she saw one young boy -- fifteen or sixteen at the oldest -- stare in wide-eyed wonder as the carriage went by.

"Now your petticoats," he said.

"I can't reach the laces," she lied.

"Of course you can," he said, "Convent girls don't have maidservants, therefore simple logic would dictate that you laced yourself up. I am curious to see what feats of flexibility this requires..."

Actually, she had managed the task by threading the laces before hand, this requiring only that she be able to tug and tie them at the base of her neck, a feat which only required momentary discomfort. She sheepishly reached over her shoulder and tugged at the laces until they came free, and gently slipped out of her petticoats as the carriage gave an awful clatter and jumped, bouncing her right out of her seat, where she landed squarely in her new husband's lap, and her petticoats back on the seat where she had been sitting.

"Couldn't have planned that better myself," he commented, "Thank you for your cooperation, but I prefer to do the rest of this myself."

Still in her stays and shift, Adeline braced herself. To her surprise though, when he put his hands around her throat, it was only to untie the cap from her head. This he discarded below the seats, and pulled the pins from her hair so that it fell down her back. She shuddered as it tickled her nearly bare shoulders. She saw his hands reach up again, and she flinched, but his touch was surprisingly gentle as he moved the black mane away from the back of her neck and let his fingers trail across the soft skin underneath.

"You don't need to fear me," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear, "Unless you want to."

"I'm not afraid," she lied.

"You're lying," he said, threading his hands under her arms to the front of her to undo the laces on her stays. He put his lips on the back of her left shoulder blade, and she felt a thrill start there and shoot down her side to the base of her spine. She cast an agonized glance out the window.

"Ignore it," he commanded.

"Yes sir," she whimpered as he removed her stays, leaving her with nothing but her thin cotton shift between the world and her naked flesh. His lips pressed harder into her shoulder and she felt his teeth on the bare white skin between her shoulder blade and her neck. His hands went then to the base of her shift, pushing her to her feet, and in a single, graceful motion, he pulled it up over her head. She heard, far off, the hoot of a peasant boy who had just gotten an eyeful.

"Leave your stockings on," he hissed in her ear. His hands crept up to cover her naked breasts and used them to turn her to face him, "Sit down."

She sat down across from him, her hands going instinctively to cover her breasts as the carriage rocked and rolled along the road. His hands went to his breeches, unbuttoning them and she could see through the fabric that he was, again, straining against them.

"Sir?"

"I take it," he said, sliding out of his trousers, "That my manservants have shown you a thing or two about men, and indeed, a thing or two about yourself."

She blushed red, remembering the unintended climax that Julien had brought her to that night, against the gate.

"Contrary to popular belief," he said, shedding his overcoat and getting to work on the buttons of his shirt, "I prefer my women to know a thing or two about themselves..."

"And what would you have me know, sir?" she asked.

"That that which is frightening is sometimes the

most interesting," he said, tossing his shirt in the corner of the carriage, "That that which is painful can bring the most pleasure... wouldn't you agree?"

"I don't know, sir," she replied shyly.

"Have you ever seen a man naked before?" he asked. Prompted, she looked him up and down. He was at once like and unlike the girls she had seen naked before. Where she herself was all soft curves, he was narrow and angular. She and Hélène had once gone down and peeped through a hole in the hedge to see a stream where some of the farm workers from the fields outside the abbey bathed after particularly hot days. They had giggled scandalously at the men who came there, some potbellied and hairy, some of the younger boys slender and smooth, and Hélène had always been sure to remark on the handsomest of them, ogling brazenly the muscular legs and chests that passed by.

She nodded shyly.

"And were you curious? After you saw them?"

"No, sir, I went and prayed upon it..."

"You're lying again, Adeline," he said, using her name for the second time, "Lie to me again and you'll regret it. You were fascinated. You thought about them day in and day out, especially when your little friend had her tongue in your pussy..."

She felt her face grow even hotter. It was as though this man had guessed all of her secrets, knew all of the things that she had done. Of course, she reasoned, he knew about Hélène because she had told him, that first day she had seen him. The rest he could have easily guessed. After all, he was a man of the world, he had known women...

"Yes, of course you did," he mused. His hand went casually to his cock, which had begun to grow as it had earlier that day, and stroke it slowly, "Because there are certain things that only a man can do to a woman."

She nodded.

"Take off your drawers," he said.

"Please, sir," she said, "Please, close the curtains."

"You asked for them open, girl, and your request was granted. I am not a cruel man... you will find I am quite glad to grant you small comforts. I only ask that you do the same to me..."

"Please, don't make me," she said.

Wordlessly, his hand flew from his cock to smack her soundly across the face. Her cheeks now crimson, she slowly undid the laces that held up the white draws around her waist, and dropped them to the floor of the carriage, along with any vestige of her modesty.

"That's better," he sighed, "Now, come to me."

The carriage chose that moment to hit another rut in the road, and she was jostled forward. She stood, as high as the low ceiling would allow her to, and went to him.

"As I said, I am not a cruel man," he said, "I will allow you to do this at your own pace."

"I don't know what you mean, sir."

"A third lie!" he exclaimed, "All right, then, I suppose we will do this the hard way!"

He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down onto his lap, so that their faces were inches apart. She felt his hardness press up against her belly and whimpered softly. Roughly, he forced her legs apart, so that they one was on each side of him, her knees bent awkwardly and her feet hanging over the edge of the seat. One hand reached around to her bottom, pulling it up so that she was on her knees and her head scraped the ceiling of the carriage. She felt the tip of his manhood slide down the crevice between her legs and bit back a cry as she realized that, like it had that morning, her body was responding without her wanting it to, and her slit was slippery and slick.

"Good girl!" he exclaimed, discovering this fact as he moved his now fully erect cock up and down the little valley formed by her lips. She shuddered each time it passed the sensitive little nub at the top, feeling more liquid ooze from her little opening. She had become accustomed to it, almost at the point of being able to ignore the surprised hollers of the peasants in the field and succumb to orgasm, when, all at once, he thrust his swollen cock into her while pulling her down to him, tearing through her maidenhead and burying his stiffness deep into her receptive little body.

She tensed at the sudden pain, like a thousand needles pricking her from the inside, but also felt her swollen clit come into contact with the hair at the base of his cock, and the pressure from that sent a shiver straight up her narrow canal.

The carriage took a sudden turn onto a road that was even more poorly paved than the one they had been on previously, and the rollicking carriage sent her back and forth, up and down, the hard shape of his cock inside her pushing every which way. She felt every bump in the road, every uneven cobblestone as the motion rocked her against him. He began to thrust rhythmically into her, and she felt with every thrust the tip of his cock hitting the back of her pussy. When one particularly violent jolt sent her reeling into him, he seized the tip of one nipple between his teeth and bit down, not hard enough to hurt, just, it seemed, to let her know whom it belonged to. Her body again responded to this in an unintended fashion, her battered pussy letting loose more liquid to further ease every one of his motions. She began to whimper again, this time not in fear, but in something like lust. The open windows and leering peasants forgotten, the whimpers turned into urgent, high-pitched little grunts as the combined motion of her husband and the carriage sent shiver after shiver through her body. If she had not been wrapped up in her own feelings, she would have noticed his thrusting become more urgent, his breath labored, and his eyes roll back as he gripped her tightly around the waist. Instead, she concentrated, as she had so many times with Hélène, on the heat building between her legs, and with a strangled moan, felt a wave after wave of pleasure crash down over her body. Unlike with Julien, as her pussy clenched and unclenched, it had something to clamp down on, and the resistance of his swollen cock inside her made the sensations all the more intense. Again, if she had not been preoccupied with herself, she would have felt him tense, heard his shuddering cry as he thrust agonizingly hard into her, and felt the spurting of his seed deep into her body.