The Colonel's Nieces

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A few months were to go by before Michael finally could join his beloved at the castle of La Bidouze. It was obvious that Julia planned to spend a lot of time with him, and the remainder would be given to Claire, because Julia did not want the little girl to be alone with Pedro. And as far as Pedro was concerned, though he needed punishment more than ever, he did not get any. The boy missed his regular sessions in Julia's boudoir, and tried everything he could think of to get the so hotly desired punishment. Julia, on the other hand, did not dare to leave punishments up to the gardener, as she had threatened, because she was afraid that the boy might take revenge and talk about their rather regular sessions.

Finally her dearly beloved was there. To all the other servants, Michael Lompret was the famous painter from Paris, who had been engaged to restore the interior of the castle. Only Dorothy, of course, knew the real situation.

In the farthest room of the castle, nights of love were celebrated which made the empty corridors echo with sighs and moans.

About two weeks after Michael's arrival at La Bidouze, the happiness was disturbed by an oath!

They had just fallen asleep after a particularly exhausting love bout, when Julia awakened.

“What is it, my dear?” Michael murmured.

“I don't know. I just can't sleep. There is something wrong.”

“Haven't you had enough?”

“Oh, yes!”

“You want more?”

Julia smiled. Now that Michael was awake, too, the feeling of being spied upon disappeared. “Are you still capable?”

“I don't know, but I'm willing to try.”

“Let me try something, I know you'll like it.” She did not tell him that she had learned this trick from a little boy, but she took the tip of his cock between left thumb and forefinger. She began to draw on it, as one pulls at a cow's udder for milk, but with exquisite gentleness. Then she grasped him at the very root, drawing her fingers slowly up to the tip of his prick and let go with a flick of her wrist. In no time Michael's organ was bogging and jerking in the air. It had been completely reinvigorated.

“The operation was a complete success,” Michael smiled.

“Yes, sir, I have to agree, and from this moment on, it is all up to you, the man of the house. Maybe you can discover a few of my special talents.”

“Isn't it dangerous to give me so much free rein? You disturbed my happy sleep, and I may not be all sweetness and light.”

“Oh, I trust you,” Julia smiled. “I don't think that you want to tie me up and beat me. Though, of course I won't say no to a little voluptuous spanking.”

“How about going in from the other way?”

“Anyway you want it,” she giggled, tickling his balls.

He stroked her surging titties. “For right now, before I lose this wonderful hard-on, I'd like to screw you on all fours.”

“Perfect. There! Is this the right position?”

She had turned her back to him, then got on all fours, slowly bowing her head to the rumpled sheets till her body was almost flat against the bed. Her magnificent, milky bottom cheeks reared up and because of her straddled knees, where deliciously distended. The soft pink lips of her pussy peeped out, framed by the black curls of her pubic hairs. Above, recessed in the shadowy furrow which cleaved her now provocatively undulating buttocks, appeared the crinkly rosebud of her anus.

“Ooh, dear…” Michael sighed, “you make the decision terribly difficult.”

He took his place behind her, reaching to cup her dangling, firm breasts, luxuriating in the feel of her warm flesh and the friction of her enticing bottom against his belly. Arching himself, Michael went forward till the knob of his throbbing organ was clamped between the moist, soft lips of Julia's yawning pussy.

“Ooooh… it's nice this way… yes…” Julia panted.

“Exactly. Besides, this way I can feel the little nipples and kisses your tight little slit is going to give my weapon.” He drew out, playfully prodding the secretive little rosette of her asshole. Julia squirmed and glanced back, murmuring. “Do tell me, if you are going to do it to me that way. I have to prepare for that, darling. Put a little bit of saliva on your member and go into it with your finger first. That would help a good deal.”

“Another time, my love. I think for now that' I'll be satisfied with your sweet tight cunt, provided you wriggle that lovely backside about. There!”

He inserted himself again, and this time with a violent shove of his loins, he was imbedded up to the hilt inside her. A stifled gasp of pleasure broke from the pillow in which Julia had burrowed her face. She contracted her buttocks, relaxed them, trying to synchronize her gyrations with his ins and outs. He could feel the moist, hot clinging of her flesh against his driving, turgid weapon. His thumbs rubbed her nipples till they were flint-hard peaks of pure erotic pleasure. Slowly and methodically he fucked her lovely, crouching naked beauty, glorying in the tightness of her narrow sheath as it absorbed his prick. She spread her thighs as far as she could, shoving back her bottom to meet his rhythmic attacks.

There was no thunder and lightning; no sheltering earthquake this time. Julia took her lover with wriggling hips and energetic thighs. Each time he sank into her up to the hilt he could feel the pulsations of her very womb. It took a long time to build up the tension in his loins, making it possible to probe her responsive, warm sheath. Finally, Julia fluted little cries, begging and urging him to drive her to the zenith of fulfillment. When he began to quicken his thrusts, he could feel her body churn and jerk as the orgasm exploded within her. It made him, too, come in an ecstatic release.

Suddenly, Michael felt a short stabbing pain in his shoulder, and when he grabbed, a child's dagger fell to the floor. A shadow rushed through the room.

“Who is there?” he called.

Julia lit the lamp, and they searched the room. They found nothing.

To call the servants and have them search the castle would have compromised both Julia and Michael. It could not have been a burglar, Michael thought, because this dagger belonged to a child. Who could have done such a thing? He shrugged off the whole thing and from then on he made sure that the door was firmly bolted.

But Julia had recognized the little dagger she had once given to Pedro to complete the Spanish costume he always wore in Sundays. She made up her mind to talk about it to the boy.

“Where is that little dagger I gave you? Did you lose it?”

“No, I didn't. You have it.”

“So it was you last night.”

“Yes.”

“And why did you do such a terrible thing? You must know that it was a terrible thing you did.”

“I have spent the last couple of days under your bed, and I don't want that man to do those things to you.”

“What man?”

“The painter! Michael Lompret. I don't want him to embrace you like that. You never let me do it that way!”

“That's all I needed! Listen here, young man, Michael Lompret wants to be to you like a father. He wants to take care of your upbringing and education, and if you want to throw away your future, you try one of those tricks again!”

“I hate him!”

“And I advise you to behave!” Julia and the boy looked at each other, eyes blazing.

Pedro said nothing, but from that day on he followed Michael like a shadow, pulling pranks and making a nuisance of himself, whenever he found a chance.

Julia had told him, of course, how she had found Claire and Pedro, and that she had plans for the children. Michael had agreed to take Pedro under his wing. But, one day, after he had found big gobs of lard in his boots, one of his paintings crisscrossed with a knife, and all his paints mixed together in one bucket, Michael decided that the time for firmness had finally come.

He calmly stepped down from his ladder, grabbed the boy by the scuff of his neck, pulled down the child's pants and, with the flat of his hand, painted Pedro's buttocks a deep purple. Then he carried the screaming, struggling boy to the front door, and dropped him unceremoniously in front of the smirking gardener. He closed the door and went back to work.

The gardener asked him with a sneer if he liked being thrashed by Michael as much as he liked it from Madame? White with fury, the boy ran to his room. And, when they called him that evening for dinner, Pedro was gone.

“Good riddance,” Michael said, when Julia told him, “that boy was a no-good source of endless irritation.”

“I hope he won't do anything desperate.”

“He won't. He'll go back to begging for a couple days, and then he will return. He knows a good thing when he sees one. Besides, as far as I am concerned, he can hang himself.”

Julia did not want a quarrel, but she was upset by this unexpected outburst. Pedro's name was no longer mentioned at La Bidouze. But;-only Dorothy knew about this-Julia went to see the priest of the little village which belonged to her domain to discuss Pedro's problem at length. A few days later, she was discreetly informed that one of the foresters had found the boy in a cave, and that little Claire was bringing him his food. Julia told Michael that she had to leave for a couple of days to go to Digne, a nearby town, and, without Michael's knowledge, she put the boy in a Dominican College.

She told the abbot what little she knew of Pedro's background, wisely forgetting a few little details, and asked him to see to it that Pedro would get an excellent schooling.

“He is very unruly,” she told the abbot, “and, though I do not wish to use the rod on him, I think you should be very strict. I will pay for all his expenses and I hope that this gift for the school will meet with your approval.”

The abbot's eyes popped. The members of the de Corriero family had always been extremely generous to both College and Abbey, but this gift surpassed anything they had ever received.

“Madame can be assured that the boy will receive the best attention,” he said.

“When the boy has finished his final exams, I hope that one of your good Fathers will bring him to me.”

And so it was agreed. The gates of learning closed behind Pedro for a number of years.

* * *

The summer flew by on wings of love and the inhabitants of La Bidouze were surprised when they noticed one day that the swallows were gathering for their flight to the African shores.

“Already?”

“Yes, already. And it will soon be time to follow their example.”

“To Africa?”

“No silly… back to Paris.”

Once back in Paris, not a night went by that Julia did not squirm in Michael's hot embraces. But the artist did not love Julia for her body alone. Granted, it was one of the most beautiful and desirable bodies in all of Paris because mother nature had spent a lot of time and thought when she created this gorgeous woman.

However, Michael also wanted her to share his knowledge and feelings. He decided to introduce his love to the world of the mind.

That winter they traveled through Italy. The summer was spent at La Bidouze, and the next winter was spent in sunny Spain.

Their repeated, prolonged absence from Paris had the happy result that, at least outwardly, the anger of the Count de Paliseul was subdued. He had sworn to himself that he would move heaven and earth, and if necessary go down to hell, to revenge himself upon Madame Pomegranate Flower.

The love affair between Maxim de Berny and Florentine was still going strong. Possibly both were a bit less passionate than they used to be, but they still saw one another regularly in the Rue Charles V. Possibly too regularly. Florentine was beginning to suffer. She lost weight, and she was beginning to get nervous. Her doctor diagnosed it as a lack of emotional involvement, and he suggested that Madame should seriously think about remarrying and having a few children as playmates for her growing son.

Five years went by without any serious mishaps. Five years of happiness as fate bestows only upon the lucky few. Both women had emptied the cup of earthly joys for three quarters. The last quarter was to be mixed with bitterness.

Julia was the first to taste it.

During the season back in Paris, she had been introduced to the Count de Paliseul. It came as a shock to her, but she quieted herself by insisting that he could not possibly have recognized her.

He did not. But, he had seen Dorothy without a mask, and he recognized her!

“Well, well, my dearest Madame Felicitas,” he had said with a vicious snarl, “how the mighty are fallen! You are indeed in a beautiful home. But after having had one of your own, I doubt if you like the role of a common chambermaid.”

Dorothy acted astonished, said that his Lordship was jesting, and Pierre, the majordomo, who had listened to the little scene, confirmed that Dorothy-like himself-had been in the service of Madame de Corriero for at least ten years.

De Paliseul, who was convinced that he had not made a mistake this time, put two and two together. Ten years! Those words stuck in his mind. But then, Madame de Corriero, the woman who was unapproachable, must be the lascivious Pomegranate Flower, the very same woman with whom he had spent a night of complete debauchery in the Rue Charles V!

Now his time of revenge was here! His evil tongue began to spread rumors, questioning the honor of the great Donna Jose de Corriero. He began to imply-and in that he was not far from the truth-that the man who restored her castle might also restore her wild, lustful and carnal desires.

Julia who did not have the slightest idea of what was going on, noticed soon that on various occasions she was being snubbed by her acquaintances. Women were positively spiteful, and certain men became more courteous than good manners allowed.

Michael, in his circles, had noticed a similar situation.

One night, when they were resting in bed Julia asked him, “Do you think that our love affair has become public knowledge?”

“I doubt it. Let's be honest, nine-tenths of your girl friends have an affair of one kind or another, and this would hardly be a reason for them to be so positively nasty towards you.”

One evening, at a party thrown by one of Julia's best friends, they were to discover the reason.

The guests were breaking up in little clusters and Michael, who was sitting in a corner, happened to be next to the table were several members of the Club de Topinambours were discussing the women who paraded across the rooms. He could clearly hear everything that was said.

“Come on, de Paliseul,” de Melreuse said, “don't try and make use believe that Madame de Corriero is this fantastically lascivious Pomegranate Flower you possessed five years ago. We know that story was a lie, and we have seen the old lady with whom you cavorted and whose twenty springs had left her ages ago. That whole ridiculous history in the Rue Charles V better be forgotten.”

Michael blanched at the words “Pomegranate Flower” and “Rue Charles V.” He was even more depressed when Julia walked by without noticing him, and de Paliseul continued, 'That's her all right. And I have heard stories about her and an artist whom she meets regularly at the home of her sister, the widow Vaudrez.”

And again he smirked.

“Can't you, for once in your life, stop leering, and laugh like normal people,” Maxim de Berney asked. De Paliseul was hewing home awfully close and he'd rather pick a fight than have this conversation continued.

But de Paliseul, who felt that his hour of triumph was near, could not be so easily persuaded to leave his favorite subject.

“Have none of you,' de Paliseul continued, ignoring Maxim's remark, “noticed the striking resemblance between Madame de Corriero's chambermaid and Felicitas from the Rue Charles V?”

“What,” de Melreuse exclaimed. “She is the lady with whom we caught you cavorting on the huge, silk and satin-covered bed?”

“She is the very same.”

Exclamations of surprise, the wildest guesses, the vilest suppositions. The name of Julia de Corriero was on everybody's lips.

“And I would not be in the least surprised,” de Paliseul continued, “if that painter fellow who is always at her sister's home, that Michael Lompret, is my lucky successor.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Michael said as he suddenly stood towering over the astonished Count de Paliseul, “I just heard my name mentioned. I neither liked the way it was spoken, nor the matter with which it was connected, and I demand satisfaction!”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” Maxim de Berny tried his utmost to avoid the unavoidable.

“Sir, I beg you to stay out of this matter which only concerns me and the Count de Paliseul. I demanded satisfaction, and I wish you to name the time and place!”

“Nothing would be more pleasing to me, Mister Lompert, than to give you a taste of my sword. Tomorrow morning?”

That night, Michael did not go to the Rue Charles V, but to his own home. His heart was shattered. Doubt plagued his mind. Could it be true that de Paliseul had not been bragging? Could it be possible that the woman with whom he had lived in bliss and happiness for more than five years was in reality a common courtesan, as de Paliseul had said? Had the old General de Corriero been merely a father to her? His mind worked feverishly. The world was falling apart. Could it be that the Count Gaston Saski had been her one and only lover? After all, she was also known as the Viscountess Saniska! She had told him that she and her sister had been brought up by Aunt Briquart who was a Colonel's widow, and of simple means. Was Aunt Briquart truly a Colonel's widow, or was she an expert matchmaker who through certain liaisons had amassed a fortune? He now even began to doubt the innocent mother-son relationship between Julia and Pedro. After all, the miserable brat had tried to stick his little dagger in his back. He had never told Julia that he had guessed the truth, because it seemed painful to his beloved. Painful! Bah! He had been tricked for almost five years!”

The next morning he went to Julia's home on the boulevard St. Michel. He explained to her that the party had given him a terrible headache. He decided not to tell her about the duel which would take place that morning. Under some pretext he left early, kissing her forehead tenderly. It was his farewell kiss.

“What's the matter, darling?” Julia asked anxiously.

“Nothing, dear,” he said, and turning to Dorothy he asked her if she would come home with him, because he had a present for Madame which he had forgotten to bring with him.

He handed her a precious jewel which he had brought for Julia and asked in passing, as if it was nothing of importance, what was behind that story of Dorothy's beautiful behind which she had shown to the members of the Club de Topinambours.

“Oh, that!” Dorothy laughed, and she told him the whole story.

There was no doubt. His whole world had fallen to pieces.

The next morning, his body was brought into his studio and laid upon the bed where he had tasted his first true happiness. His heart had been pierced by de Paliseul who had been very surprised by the fact that a man of Lompret's background defended himself so clumsily.

He was still alive when his friends put him down upon the bed where he and Julia had passed so many happy hours. Jonathan was beside himself. He did not even know Madame de Corriero's address.

And when Julia, informed by Florentine who had heard about the duel from Maxim, entered Michael's home, he had just breathed his last breath.