Myriam whispered half-asleep:
«Where am I?»
Nicolas was already fastening on her, wedging between her thighs:
«Dear little dove… in my room… remember our wonderful night… remember you're mine…»
Myriam listened without understanding, then she felt him nosing in and everything was clear… the girl in the armchair, the Argentine lunging into her, her own fainting… the bed… her arms caught, her skirts stiff ling her. She had become his mistress, but who had held her, had helped him to ravish her? It must have been her aunt… her aunt who had dosed her so that she would grow mad under that old man. She remembered her pleasure, and how she had wanted him that night, how she had been debased, sullied… She was lost now, she wasn't even a woman, she was a heated bitch like the others… Even if he had forced her at the beginning, she asked for more afterwards, so impudently too that she blushed at it now, as the same man rubbed his prick between the lips of her cunt, she blushed to want him again… She wasn't guilty yet… her aunt was guilty, and Kozincko they had all been leagued against her, even Ghislaine, her dear Ghislaine… They had all of them condemned her to be a lost woman…
She would take her revenge, a terrible one. She did not knew how, she did not knew when, but she would… Even if she loved to feel him slowly, lovingly, glueing it in as now… she'd do it all the same. She was an instrument for pleasure now… Love's Cinderella and no longer a pure little girl. She had been delivered helpless to the princes of debauch… They had wanted her to be a slut… that she would be! and she'd derive every pleasure and advantage from it. But woe to those who had lost her… She'd ruthless, as they had been.
Kozincko believing her still half asleep was moving the tip of it in and out drowsily. She clutched him.
«Come, Come deeper, give it to me quick-Deeper… Oh Fuck me… fuck me hard… there.»
Kozincko rammed it up her twat with all his might, mauling her delicate body in a frenzy of volupty.
He couldn't see Mrs. Cornavin's smile as she watched them in the dark, tittering with pleasure at the fine little bitch Myriam had grown into, hoping to reap soon the fruit of her crafty schemes.
But both Nicolas and the worthy aunt would have been afraid if they had seen the smile on Myriam's lips while the man was bouncing up and down on top of her sullied body.
Both should have known revenge is another form of volupty and not one to be made light of. Had Kozincko penetrated Myriam's mind as deeply as her cunt he would have recoiled with fear.
— Kozincko took Myriam back with him in Paris, he was obviously delighted with his new mistress. He couldn't do without her. He was rather astonished at first to see her so loving and ever ready to please him. Eventually he thought she was in love with him.
It was agreed Ghislaine should know nothing. Myriam would still be a friend more than a lady's maid.
Yet Kozincko was trying to think out a way to see her as frequently as possible. He was rather frightened at the importance she was taking in his life, he had imagined that when he'd have had her everything would be over.
Too much engrossed by his desire he didn't see Myriam was keeping him in skillfully woven meshes.
Ghislaine wasn't surprised to see them coming back together. Though Myriam refused to say anything, Ghislaine could guess well enough, yet she couldn't gauge her father's infatuation rightly.
On the first night they resumed their games as if nothing had passed. Myriam had grown more skilful and Ghislaine soon enough received true pleasure from her. In her turn she wanted to caress Myriam who let her, thinking meanwhile of the revenge that was slowly hatching in her head. She was enraged at the thought the girl who exerted herself between her legs, shoving her tongue up her twat was still pure. She was the daughter of the very man who had debauched her though he jealously protected his Ghislaine's youthful innocence! That girl had a right to stay pure, to be ignorant of men's ways when they want a girl, to know love with the husband she'd choose when she chose… Till then she'd be a virgin, sheltered from all evil.
Why? Because she was Nicolas Kozincko's daughter? Because her father was very rich? Myriam was sore at the thought. There was no reason why she would be alone to suffer. And she began to plan out strange things… pleasure flooding her senses she had significant gestures.
Tightening her legs about Ghislaine's waist, she kept her friend's head caught between her thighs until she had come. Then trying another game, she made Ghislaine turn round she stroke the plump little buttocks, then slipped the inquisitive tip of one finger into her asshole, pink and delicate as a small blossom. Ghislaine seemed to enjoy the process, wriggled her ass delightedly.
Suddenly, without knowing, why, perhaps as a foreboding omen, Myriam stuck her whole finger inside…
— Myriam saw Jerome on the following day. He was impatiently waiting for her, hoping this short interval might have increased the girl's desire.
As soon as he had kissed her she asked: «Was you take me to your place?» Jerome was astounded at the question. He was to happy of the decision to make any inquiry about its suddenness.
He had a lovely bachelor flat at the Muette. Myriam admired the setting… the furniture, the pictures, the discreetly shaded lights, and a large luxurious couch covered with price silks… an altar as it were.
«There I should have belonged to him I loved» and a great bitterness almost brought tears into her eyes. May be Jerome would no longer care for her if he knew; this and some modesty prevented her from telling him everything.
Jerome seeing her looking at the couch inferred: she thinks I'll possess her there.
Tiptoeing behind her, he suddenly caught her in his arms. She didn't resist. He kissed the nape of her neck and began to caress her through the light material of her dress, whispering tender, mad, words.
Pushing up her dress he held her close to him to feel all the better the warmth of her smooth skin.
With very slow, very touching gestures, and very elaborate pauses too, he began to undress her, calling long on each kisses nest.
Standing as some idol, Myriam felt a new warmth pervading her limbs, her whole flesh.
This was so different from Nicolas' exasperated cravings, brutal maulings! Jerome was tender and passionate at once. His gesture were almost respectful Kneeling before her now, he seemed to pray and plead his passion, his desire. He slipped off slowly, devotedly, the last piece of nylon and lace that protected her, kissing and caressing her as he did so. When this was gone and she stood naked above him, he kissed the shadowy down that lost itself between her thighs.
Then he rose and embraced her in his strong arms.
«Come little girl and be mine.»
His lips thought hers. She felt his warm insistent tongue sliding into her mouth. Then he lifted her up and carried her on the bed.
She had closed her eyes. When she opened them, Jerome was coming naked against her side, she looked lovingly on his wonderful suntanned body. He took her in his arms while his shapely muscular legs gently wedged between hers. One hand caressingly opened up her thighs. She felt the quivering weight of his sex on belly, Lovingly she gave herself up to his desire direction his prick, placing it between her expectant lips. He shoved in slowly, then almost instantaneously he slipped it out:
«Why! I thought you were a virgin…?»
She balked.
«I never told you so! If you don't want me go away!»
Whipped by the apostrophy Jerome replied quickly:
«Heavens no I was joking!»
And without more ado he lunged in brutally.
If he regretted Myriam's maidenhead the regret didn't last long. Myriam belonged to him with such ardent perverseness that he was soon worn out.
She was a wonderful lover, ready to gratify any desire, any whim. Yet he understood she hadn't been broken in completely when he asked her something she had apparently never done yet. He insisted at once to humiliate her, to have the pleasure to see those pink lips coming down on his prick, she soon proved her gifts that way as well…
In the end he wanted to give it her as Kozincko had done the first time. She flatly refused. Jerome didn't insist keeping this road for another day. When they parted it seemed they had been lovers for ages.
«Shall I see you to morrow darling?
«Yes, and every day if you want, answered Myriam.»
But she knew her love for Jerome was no longer the same.
