She also noticed a few chairs, a chest of drawers, and on an old table, whips of different types and shapes, and also leather belts, and tweezers, needles and many other torture instruments.
Janine went down for dinner. It was a quiet evening. Janine learned that Solange was going to spend the evening and then the night at some friends of Barral, under the pretense of helping them. She left around eight or nine o'clock and Barral sent Janine to bed. Time passed, the night was really a dark one; the young kid did not want to sleep and the whole house was silent.
Then the noise of a car. Janine heard Barral locking her in. Quickly she put on her nightdress and went by the balcony into Barral's room and from there into the attic.
The lit oil lamps were giving a strange glow to the room and to the things in it. Janine shivered, but she struggled against her fears and went and hid herself in the little closet. She put on her slippers, waiting for the mice. Her heart was beating like a drum.
She heard the car stop, then hoarse voices; some sighs, and cries, then footsteps in the corridor. Then through the opened door came Barral, dressed in a dark brown frock, then two peasants in Sunday clothes, with a white carnation at each of their buttonholes. They were holding a young bride, all in white, who was struggling against them. But Janine soon saw that she was tipsy and that she could not really defend herself.
“No, No, I do not want it. NO… are you out of your mind? NO…”
Behind them came a fat and red-faced monk. Barral locked the door.
The men pulled the girl along one of the pillars. Barral took a supple stick and came before her: She looked at him, frightened; the monk came closer and told her:
“Now, now, my child, you will have to become more obedient. Your husband, completely loaded, proved himself quite unable to fulfill the duties that he had to fulfill, and also showed that he did not deserve you, as he is now completely asleep. You had, yourself, by your-let us say-original behavior, some attitudes that are not to be taken or accepted by he who admits you among the pure and holy young brides. Thus you will have to repent and confess completely. My friend here, agreed to replace your absent husband, and transform you into a real woman. You must now accept that he does what he has to do with all the experience and refinement that is required.”
“But, first of all, come here, and confess all your sins.”
He moved his stool closer to her and sat down.
The young bride was looking at him in complete amazement. “No, not here. No, I do not want to, not in front of them.” He drew her close to him, but she struggled against him.
The monk got up, took a supple stick, and told her: “If within thirty seconds, you are not here, kneeling prostrate, I will be sorry to have to chastise you as you deserve on your bare buttocks.”
The bride looked at all the men, one by one, around her. She remained silent and put her hands on her white dress. She shook her head in refusal. At a given signal, two men got hold of her hands and lifted her dress from behind higher than the belt. She had a relatively plump behind, that was molded in a pair of white silk panties. Barral hurried to roll the pants down her thighs. She was wearing white silk stockings.
The monk raised his hand, and with a cutting noise, the stick landed on the rotund globes, five times in a row, leaving big red marks on the soft flesh. At each blow the bride's body twisted under the pain, and she hollered like an injured animal. After the fifth stroke, the monk stopped and said: “Now Suzanne, are you consenting, or must I go on with the punishment?”
“Ah, no, please do not hurt me anymore, I hurt too much, leave me alone…”
“I ask you to answer my question-are you ready to confess your sins?”
From the tip of the stick he caressed the bare flesh, she shivered.
“Yes, yes, enough, do not hurt me any more!”
The monk gave Barral a sign. He put the material of her dress in the belt of the skirt, revealing the strong behind with its twin pulpy globes, separated by a deep slit. The fleshy thighs were emerging from the lily white dress, their pink shades contrasted against the immaculate material of the bridal attire. They placed the bride in front of a stool, bending her forwards, and tied her hands with lashes.
Barral stood by her side, his stick in hand, and the monk sat behind the young woman facing the bare round buttocks.
Then, while he was touching with his hands the bare flesh, he confessed her, making her admit little by little all her menial sins, and insisting on the sexual caresses that she had either received or given.
Then the monk said:
“For your penitence, my child, you will offer the sacrifice of your modesty, and then later, you will receive on your colossal ass, the punishment that it amply deserves. After, and only after, will you be authorized to be purified by us all.”
He got up and they freed the girl. She got up, blushing under the shame, and took a look at her captors. They were all holding whips.
The monk ordered: Take your dress off.”
She looked at him, and remained motionless. A cry. Barral had just stroked the bare behind. She moved away, and backed against a pillar. They raised their whips: “No… No… Not that, I will do whatever you want me to do…”
And, breathing heavily, she unhooked the front of her dress, let it slide, revealing the round shoulders, the muscled arms, the rather thick legs. She remained with only a short white linen blouse, all embroidered, and so transparent that one could see the brown flowers of her teats.
“Lift your shirt and show your belly.”
She looked at the monk, hopeless; two more blows reached her between her thighs, then crying, she took the material between her fingers, and lifted it up. The men could see the velvety pubis, the thick fur of ebony black hair.
“Higher…”
Facing the raised sticks, the girl lifted her shirt higher, and they could all contemplate the round belly, the deep navel. They left her in that posture for a long time, and then the monk ordered:
“Take it off…”
A stick whistled in the air. The bride shivered, and her shirt fell around her ankles. She was then completely naked except her white stockings, her white gloves, up to the forearm, and her white veil. A rare vision. Voluptuously, they contemplated her. She was expecting the end of her torture, her eyes closed.
The monk looked at Barral who showed him the rope hanging from the ceiling. They came to the girl, and before she could only react, they fastened her wrists in two leather bracelets. She was then like a pink Y hanging from the ceiling. Her breasts, propped up by this pose, were even more suggestive.
They came to her.
“No, no, please let me go. I refuse. No. Aaah.”
She could not help crying under the odious caress of the hands on her breasts, on her buttocks, on her cunt. They were sucking at her nipples and caressing her between her legs. She was shivering and trembling, trying to free herself from the ropes that were holding her prisoner. But in vain. She kicked the monk with one foot; he came by her and gave her a couple of severe blows, then he put her ankles in two other leather bracelets that were tied to the ground. Now she was like a capital X, completely open, offered to the desires of her tormentors.
“Ah, you are like a wild horse, eh? Your breasts are sensitive? I am going to harden that flesh then…”
They both came, Barral and the monk, and took a breast in hand. A continuous lament filled the room, that had Janine shivering in her closet. The woman was twisting in the ropes that were maintaining her and the men were pressing her teats in their hard and nervous hands. They shook them, pulled at the ends, pressed the globes, lifted-the whole globe by the nipple. The pain must have been insufferable to judge from her cries. The tortured flesh was lapped, whipped, pinched, squeezed. Then they stopped and looked at her shivering body.
“Now little girl, is one getting wiser? Now you are ready to receive the caress that will transform your horrible teats into real breasts.”
Barral takes a cat o'nine tails in hand. The monk sits by the two country men, completely loaded and not realizing what is happening. Barral then raises his arm, and methodically starts an intense beating of her breasts. The young bride tries to escape, but in vain. One can see the muscles shiver under the contraction at each blow.
The lashes are encircling the globes either from the bottom to the top or vice versa; the flesh shivers and undulates under the blows. Barral feels that he is reaching the limit that he cannot pass without it being dangerous
