The Colonel's Nieces

CHAPTER THREE

The carriage returned at about two that afternoon with Madame Briquart and all. To them it seemed that Florentine had been gone for ages, and they could hardly wait to see her.

Both ladies were very curious and wing to find out the details of the wedding night. The aunt was thinking about her own horrifying experiences of bygone years, and Julia was making wild guesses, pieced together from the forbidden books she had managed to read.

Both were very apprehensive, and feared for poor little Florentine. They wanted to know how the girl had withstood the crisis. Therefore, both were slightly disappointed when the young bride greeted them with a big smile, her eyes radiant. The aunt, who could so vividly remember her own wedding night, and Julia, who had read some astounding things, had expected tears and fainting spells, even though George's age had been a guarantee against the worst they had expected.

But Florentine looked radiant. Her cheeks were rosy, but her husband displayed dark rings under his eyes-which was not unusual — and he looked somewhat worn out.

Madame Briquart was quick to notice these details and it made her think. “Well, well, well.” she thought, “could it be that old George has more in him than I had anticipated?”

George fussed over his two guests, trying to make them as comfortable as possible. It was quite clear to the two women that he tried his best to avoid having them alone with his wife, but there is an old proverb which says that neither God nor the devil can prevent a woman from doing what she wants, and George was saddled with three of them! What could he do? The inevitable had to happen. He was forced to do what he had been trying so desperately to avoid. There were certain things he had to take care of, because his young wife was too inexperienced in running the household and, if there was going to be any dinner at all, George had to go out and make the arrangements with the servants.

Julia went immediately up to her sister's room to examine the trousseau and inspect the bridal room. She sat down, fingering the many treasures, day-dreaming about her own great love.

Madame Briquart was more direct. She asked Florentine to come into her guest room, sit down upon the sofa and indulge in some small talk.

“Now we can talk, my poor little darling,” she said, squeezing Florentine's hand. “You don't have to put up a front for me. How does marriage agree with you?”

“Oh it's simply marvelous, dear aunt. George is very considerate and he has been very sweet to me.”

“Yes, I can believe that! But what about you?”

“Me? I am very happy, and I cannot think of any reason why this happiness should not continue.

“Neither can I, my dear. But tell me, was he very brutal? Even the most considerate man can… can ah… you see… there are certain moments where he… ah… often stops being delicate.”

“George? Indelicate? Oh, not him! I told you, he is full of consideration and care for me.”

“I am certainly glad that everything went well, and that you have not suffered needlessly. George must have seen his doctor, who undoubtedly gave him some sort of soothing solution.”

“Why, aunt?”

Madame Briquart made slight mention of her own wedding night, but preferred to make it look as if she had heard of this case through a doctor. It did not seem to register at all with Florentine and Madame Briquart looked at her cousin with unadulterated astonishment. She continued, a little less veiled in her choice of words this time. “The first love-making always is a battle, and very painful for the woman. In his infinite wisdom the Creator has placed a barrier and the price of complete victory is that blood must be spilled! Only then can a young bride call herself the rightful wife, and prepare herself for maternity…”

Her glowing description could have gone on forever, because Madame Briquart, despite her age, had become quite excited by her own vivid imagination. But the blank stare on Florentine's face stopped her cold, and she was totally unprepared for the following confession.

“But my dearest aunt, I simply don't understand a single word of what you are saying. And since we are among women…” The new wife pronounced this 'among women' with a seriousness which made it very difficult for Madame Briquart to hide a smile. “… I can tell you that I experienced a physical sensation which was simply out of this world. I had it happen to me last night, and again this morning, and I swear to you that there was absolutely no pain, no blood and no horror. I can only tell you that I felt my entire body being flooded with a warm, pleasurable sensation as I had never felt before.”

“It's unbelievable! But the…”

A horrible thought came to Madame Briquart, but she rejected it as quickly as it had come to her mind. No! That was impossible! The young girl had never left her side since early childhood, and the utter innocence with which she related her experiences of the wedding night proved to the aunt that her cousin was as pure and virginal as the day she was born.

The only alternative left open to her agile mind was the unadulterated truth. “My God, George is not as potent as he pretends to be!”

She smiled reassuringly at her niece. “I am glad to hear that George has been considerate enough to wait a while before he demanded his rights as a husband. It is good of him not to have wanted to frighten you, and you should be grateful that he did not immediately take possession of you.”

“But he did!”

“Then I no longer understand.”

“Why not? You were married to the Colonel. He must have used his rights as a husband.”

“He certainly did! He used them so well for two nights and three days in a row that it took a doctor several months to make repairs! He made me pass from virgin to wife all too quickly!”

“Does that mean that I am not a woman yet, dear aunt?”

“I am afraid so, my dear. From what I can gather, you are still a virgin. At least that is the only conclusion I can draw.”

“I would like to know for sure…” murmured Florentine.

The aunt pulled the young woman toward her, slid her hands under Florentine's skirts and touched the girl's tickler with expert fingers. She rolled it between her thumb and index finger and the little devil raised its rosy head. Then, carefully, she spread the lips of her niece's golden-fleeced pussy and tried to penetrate it with her forefinger. A resisting barrier blocked her efforts.

“Ouch! You are hurting me!” Florentine cried out.

“I told you that you would have to suffer to become a woman. You will only become one when George has broken this membrane which I am touching now. This is what they call the hymen, and the only way it can be broken is when George with his male tool has hammered down upon it repeatedly. I do not doubt that he is capable of raising his… well… it-to the required hardness. Once he has passed through the membrane, his tool will deeply penetrate into your belly and give you delights which you can scarcely imagine, even after what happened to you last night. Alas, before you can taste those delights of conjugal love, George will have to break that membrane which is painful and causes some loss of blood. But, once he is into you, and once he reaches his own climax, a warm, delicious liquid will flow out of him which will move to the deepest parts of you and, God willing, will make you the mother of his children. However, my dearest child, it is the law of nature, and the unfathomable will of God that you have to suffer those fleeting moments of pain in order to savor the full pleasures of love and to achieve the glory of motherhood.”

“I really don't understand.”

“George must have wanted to spare you.”

“But I clearly felt…”

“What you will feel again.”

The older woman placed her skillful fingers upon the young girl's sex parts, played around a while till dear little Florentine began to wriggle, squirm and sigh, and finally experienced a spasm which she had believed to be the sign of possession.

“Oh, my God,” she murmured. “It is as good with you as it was with George. But that means…” Her innocent eyes opened wide. “That means that a woman can… can… make a- friend happy.”

The aunt restrained a smile, put her fingers to her lips and then pointed at the door leading to Florentine's boudoir. Julia had stopped moving around, and not a sound came from the other room. Florentine rearranged her dress, gave her aunt a long and tender kiss and called her sister. Julia appeared immediately, her face flushed, her eyes shining with an unusual brilliance.

“Well, my little sister,” demanded Florentine, “do you like my beautiful gowns? Don't they make you want to get married, too?”

“That would entirely depend to whom,” Julia retorted. “But to be loved, and to give love in return… yes, yes… I would like that very much.”

“Your turn will come quick enough, maybe sooner than you think.” said Madame Briquart. “Who knows what might happen. I know a certain Count who seems to think along very similar lines.”

Now it was Julia's turn to blush deeply. Fortunately for her, George knocked on the door, asking if he could come in.

“No, dearest,”? Florentine answered gaily. “We will join you downstairs in a minute.”

George was in a radiant mood. His valet had found Albert in Paris and brought back the precious potion. Albert had written a letter with instructions-plus a couple snide remarks which George cheerfully overlooked. He took the potion according to the instructions and his spirits were so high that the dinner was a huge success.

Madame Briquart could not help herself and she directed a few insinuating remarks at her husband's nephew. George pretended not to understand them, but he thought, “You old bitch!” Nevertheless, he treated her outwardly with the same tender respect which he had always accorded her.

“I wonder what she could have told my wife? Oh, well, I'll just have to wait and see. I honestly don't know whether it is the wine or the potion, but I can feel myself getting hornier by the minute.”

The women imbibed a rather large quantity of champagne, but George steadfastly refused to take a single drop, and his aunt thought, “I won't say anything yet, but it seems to me that he is preparing himself for the decisive battle.”

Since it had been decided that the guests would spend several days at Charmettes", Aunt Briquart decided that she could properly pretend to be tired and went up to her room, asking Julia to come up and read to her. George was infinitely grateful for this gesture and felt sorry that he had called her an old bitch.

“Darling,” he said to his wife, “would you like to follow your aunt's example and go up to our room? I am rather tired myself.”

“Gladly, dearest.”

“Fine, you go on up and I will join you as soon as you have sent the maid away.”

George went up to his room, took off his clothes and lowered himself in the bathtub with ice cold water which his valet had prepared for him. He fiddled around with his member, which was destined for combat that night. After having carefully dried himself, he sprinkled his arms, legs and back with cologne, the smell of which brought some preliminary reactions. This done, he put on his robe, drank a glass of vanilla tea and courageously ran toward his wife's room.

Florentine was seated in the great bed, looking deliciously pretty in perfumed lace which flowed around her lithe body. The cleavage showed her well-rounded breasts with the big, promising rosy buds. She smiled nervously, knowing that this second wedding night was going to be the deciding one.

This time George carefully avoided last night's mistake. He did not diddle around, avoiding the mistakes of prolonged foreplay. He took a large jar of cold cream from his wife's dressing table and making ample use of it, he began to rub his wife's belly. He could wait no longer. With agile fingers he massaged his wife to the point of climax, mounted her and pointing the dull red head of his weapon to the pouting slit, drove forward at one bound and with a victorious yell he attempted to bury himself up to the hilt into his wife's treasure trove. He called out, “Fear not, my dear… this little price of a minute's suffering will bring you pleasures forever… and, for God's sake, help me! It will make you suffer less.”

If Florentine had not had the little talk with her aunt that afternoon she would have undoubtedly defended herself. Now, however, she was annoyed at still being a virgin, especially since the old woman had made fun of her. She obeyed him by rushing her belly toward his incoming spear, and the resulting strong blow had the desired effect. She gave a violent start as she felt the entrance of George's swollen member. George, firmly embedded in the warm-body of his wife, covered her face and breast with kisses. His cry of triumph mingled with Florentine's moaning. She felt herself pierced through and wondered whether she had been pinned to the mattress forever. George commenced with several quick stabs of furious pleasure, and soon Florentine was engulfed in the same feelings. The pain had eased and made room for a warm, enjoyable feeling. Suddenly, with a scream of agonized enjoyment, he discharged and shot into his wife a plentiful torrent of hot fluid. The warm liquid inundated her. She underwent a spasm of hitherto unknown intensity. Her whole being shivered and she lost consciousness of what had happened, only to awaken several moments later under George's grateful kisses.