«Yes, as long as you don't take me.
«You'll let me…? do anything I choose?»
She bowed her head.
He chucked her under the chin as the first time they had met. She let him slid his tongue into her mouth submissively.
He tore off with a yank the front of her dress, leaving her care to the waist.
She started with fear.
«I won't hurt you, I'll be very tender, come…»
She let him take her hand. He led her to the bed, spread her on it, and lay by her side. Kissing, gobbling at her breasts he tried to rouse desire in the girl. But Myriam thought of Jerome and was as limp as a weed.
Everytime he tried to get between her thighs she escaped him. This maddened him. Straddling on her he tore off what was left of her clothes. His lips roved over the revealed body, caressed the down above the little crack, then he forced her thighs open and buried his face between them, his tongue delicately parted the little lips. Myriam felt her body tingling with pleasure and expectation, she grew moist…
Nicolas felt this might be the way to victory, he slid his hands under her buttocks, she opened more and more under his warm tongue. She couldn't help whimpering and stiffened as she felt a thrill running up from the very bottom of her backbone.
Nicolas tried to slip in a stiff swollen pecker. Myriam jumped aside almost in a last effort, turning her back to him. Mad with her foolishness that deprived him from the reward of long efforts, understanding he would never get anywhere if he didn't force her, Nicolas flung himself on the helpless little buttocks and thrust in up to the hilt.
Myriam cried and stiffened with pain but Nicolas was completely unleashed he paid no attention to her cries and fucked her up to the eyes; he ended with one of one long agonizing spurt and was lost in a volupty which though it wasn't an entire possession was at least an exciting initiation.
Myriam was trying to swallow back her sobs unawares that thank to the gods and thanks to sodomy, she was still a virgin…
CHAPTER VII
Indignant at her resistance and still ravenous with desire, Kozincko took Myriam to the hairdresser to fetch Ghislaine, then left abruptly.
«I'll send you the car, he blurted out, you'll both of you get back to your place and I'll come for you in the evening.»
Myriam obeyed as an automaton. He hadn't breathed a word to her on the way. May be he would send her back to her aunt. Yet she thought she had let him do what he wanted and the pain was still so acute that she tried hard not to cry.
The fact was Kozincko needed a diversion to calm down his anger and his amorous appetites. He was used to have everything complying with his slightest wishes and couldn't understand why Myriam had resisted him. He might have shoved in of course without so much ado, and he was perfectly determined to have her at any cost, but he wanted this to happen at a favourable time in another frame of mind.
Besides he had managed to get something, and the memory of that something made him laugh.
«She only got the merest little bit of it, but next time she'll get the whole length in front and no mistake.»
Just now he wanted a woman badly, and he had escaped to get back to his office. There he had a regular harem, well supplied in choice victims between those thighs he would calm his hungers…
«The first cunt will do, he privately vowed, but she will have a fucking fiesta..!»
— Kozincko managed different types of busies in Paris. Yet the only truly profitable one among the whole lot consisted in supplying foreign markets with pretty girls. He was the head of a vast organisation, and he'd sell flesh as any other kind of goods. This trade had been the making of his large fortune.
Under pretence of import-export exchanges, of theatrical agencies, of varied night clubs, he could without danger apply his resources and energies to this trade, and occasionally he would test himself the qualities of his goods.
He was sole and dread master in his office, where he held his head-quarters. He was most exacting as to quality and quantity… and the woman who was head of the female staff, the ex-manager of a renowned brothel, knew it well.
There were two distinct men in Nicolas Kozincko, two distinct souls. As Dostoievski's heroes he could go to the extremes of good and evil. He acted with a pure freedom sanctified, so to say, by the violent instincts of his nature.
All the vicious, mysterious, forces alive in a Nietzsche, a Lautreamont, a Sade, as well as Montherlant's Costals' disdainful wisdom, led him along as far as women where concerned.
Yet, and simultaneously, he loved his daughter with the purest love. Following Gide's precept which presents the experiencing of evil as a necessary step to achieve the best that's in us, he would steep himself into the filthiest debauch and returned purer, stronger…
Kozincko was a Slav. In him were blended the complexity of asiatic souls, their simplicity too, their love for suffering in one's own flesh and spirit as well as in others and their sensuous mysticism.
Martha, the head of the feminine staff was devoted to him, and as soon as she saw him she understood he was in an angry mood…
She knew too how he used to vent his fits of temper on the staff…
Martha had grown a very penetrating psychologue during the long years she had managed her brothel. She knew everything of course about Kozincko's real business, and she thought the best would be to send him the new-comer: a small, rather noisy, brunette who thought a world of her precious self since she had been elected Miss Dactylo, and whose sole ambition was to become a movie star. Her name was Elaine but she had changed it for Lydia…
She was a lovely hunk of flesh with short curly hair, a nice face a trifle vulgar perhaps (too much red on the lips, too much black on the lashes), yet she possessed an harmonious body, pert teats, fine legs to which she owed the best part of her Miss Dactylo's crown.
Lydia would never set the Seine on fire, and to say the truth she was a simple little soul. Martha had engaged her who knew what she was about, and Lydia thought that, thanks to her charms, she'd soon find a way to fame. Martha, had of course agreed with her, telling that the boss who possessed numerous and various agencies wouldn't fail to be impressed by her talents and figure.
What Marta knew was that he wouldn't be shy of helping himself to her cunt but that was part of the day's work! Thus without waiting, as soon as she saw Nicolas she beckoned her innocent to come.
«Come with me, the boss will probably ask you to his office.»
Lydia flushed with pleasure.
«Ask me?
«Why yes! smiled Martha… Try and be up to it… Lydia powdered her nose hastily and followed Martha.
«Wait for me here, I'll call you.»
— As soon as she was in Kozincko's private study, Martha asked simply:
«Anything wrong?»
Nicolas tried to dismiss Myriam's obsessing image and smiled a poor smile.
«It's no thing really. A minx has upset me… very bad for my nerves I daresay…
«I see, said Martha. Do you want me to teach her a few things. Girls sometimes need a good piece of advice and often a good thrashing…
«Or both at once, he retorted… No, I'll manage her alone… but you guess what I need now…
«Why sure, I've got here a hare-brain who would need a few inches into her to sober her a bit…
«What type?
«Dark, with a good figure. But I can't warrant for her maidenhead. Yet she may still have it.
«Damn your virgin cunts, he grumbled; they all imagine the ocean will dry if they let you have a go at it. They
