could not have possibly much spunk left, having deposited so much on the other side of the Channel before boarding the Bonaventura.
Then again he called out, this time more sharply, “Denise, Louisette, you are not to imitate us till you have finished your count! Have you done so yet?”
“Almost, mon Pere,” Denise's husky voice was trembling and unsteady now, “but I do think I have at any rate a score more little hairs over my con than does Louisette, even though she be older!”
“Do not forget to count those which grow along the shadowy valley between your two virgin orifices, my daughters,” he counseled, and then his voice rose in a muffled cry, “Aiii! Prepare yourself, Marisia, you have brought this upon your own self by your teasing tongue! Take it then, my daughter, for it is all I have left to give you!”
I heard him groan, but that groan was still muffled, so he must have returned to the soft niche of his lovely raven-haired ward and paid her back with his own delving tongue just as hers made surge forth the final gobbets of his viscous spunk. For now Marisia's cry of bliss drowned out his groan and the oaken chest was noisy with their wrigglings and pantings and tremorings upon it.
“We have finished, mon Pere,” Louisette gasped, “may we now have our soporific too?”
But he did not answer, only continuing to gasp and sigh in the aftermath of mouth-fucking. I heard Denise murmur to Louisette: “We must not disturb him at his orisons, my sister. Let us hurry so that we may sleep soundly! I am going to kiss you there between your pretty legs!”
“And I between yours, dear Denise!”
Whereupon there were such slushing and suckings and tonguings and kissings and moanings and sighings as I must admit I had not heard since my first days at the Seminary at St. Thaddeus. And to think that these three embryonic temptresses were but a few days' journey from that haven of repose and redemption and rogering!
CHAPTER TEN
The two delightful sisters Denise and Louisette had, it seemed, not actually completed their tallying when an inevitable drowsiness took hold of them after they had eased the tautness of their young nervous systems by means of that stimulating little jeu de con known as soixante-neuf. For shortly after the cabin's dimensions had reverberated to the multitudinous amorous sounds that, in company within those scant dimensions, two nubile sisters and one waif with her protector-guardian could manage to emit while they gamboled at carnal delectation, I heard the gentle breathing of Denise and Louisette, and, not much later on, the robust snores of good Father Lawrence, who was only proving that age-old maxim that although the spirit may be willing, the flesh more times than naught is often weak – particularly when it has been called upon so repetitiously to give good account of itself and stand to tributary attention before those citadels of flesh which, I warrant you, have crumpled more heroic assailants than all the castle walls of antiquity.
At any rate, whatever the reason, all four were soon happily asleep, while the good ship Bonaventura peacefully made its way across the Channel. The rocking of the gentle waves lulled me, too, to slumber inside my metal prison, but this time I could more willingly bear the tribulation of Dame Fortune, always a fickle jade, since at last into the fecund mind of my unsuspecting ecclesiastic-jailer, there had come the notion of what important part the soft silken down and follicles and strands and tendrils and wayward peeping of cunt-hair could impart to the destiny of man as well as of maiden.
Indeed, so heartily did the sisters and tender Marisia and her good guardian sleep that the cry of the seamen high on the spymast, “Land ho, Dover!” resounded all through the ship before at last Father Lawrence loudly groaned, grumbled, then, bumping the chest and muttering some inaudible Latin phrase which I suspected was not at all a blessing, came to his feet and took cognizance of the late hour.
“Open your eyes, my daughters,” he cried resoundingly, “and greet the new day – we are upon the English coast and you will see the land which will shelter you after your leave-taking of la belle Frame!”
Marisia, who, I trust, had put her nightshift back on, was first to scurry to his side to peep through the porthole. “I see the cliffs, mon Pere,” she cried, “but oh they are not nearly so jolie as the landscape of the village of Languecuisse.”
“You must not be so quick to judge things by your first impression of them, my child,” he said gently. “As you grow older, you will learn to revise your opinions a dozen times over. This is the way of the world. But it is true that, when the sky is gray and the winds gusty, the chalky cliffs do not give a visitor from the warm sunny Provence the feeling of home. Yet fear not, my child, I will look after you, and even though you be within dreary surroundings, yet will I make a warm place for you in my heart so that you will not believe that we English are cold by nature.”
Oh, the sly pedantic rogue! A warm place in his heart, indeed – say rather in his bed, and it was not his heart that longed for the raven-haired fledgling who had already displayed more unrestrained interest in fornicatory matters than many a frigid virgin in her twenties brought to bed with an eager mate. The long, rather than the short, of it was that he longed for her with all his cozening prick!
Now he murmured, “Do you know whether your new sisters Denise and Louisette finished their tallying last night, my dear child?”
Marisia, giggled. “Ah, no, but I do not think so, mon Pere. When I went back to my bunk above them, they were kissing each other and wishing each other happy dreams, and I did hear Denise say that there would be time to reckon the true count some other evening.”
“Well, so there will be this very night, for we stay at a hospitable little inn halfway between Dover and London. It will be our last night together as companions; for tomorrow night, you and Louisette and Denise will sleep for the first time in the Seminary at St. Thaddeus.”
Then to the sisters he called, “Hasten to dress yourselves, Denise and Louisette! There will be just time to consume your breakfast before our staunch vessel docks at Dover, and then we shall take the coach as far as the little village of Somerset, where we spend the night before we make our happy entry into old London town.”
To Marisia he added, “Help them speed their preparations, dear Marisia, for I wish you to be as tender and steadfast a companion and dear friend to them as if you were their sister also.”
With this he donned his cassock, but in taking it up from where he had laid it the night before, he swung it against the chest, and I was half affrighted out of my senses, for the locket swung against the unyielding oaken coffer with a noisy thud that fairly dashed me from one end to the other inside my cramped metal prisons and all of Laurette's silken lovecurls piled upon me and very nearly suffocated me with their soft caressing mass.
“Ah, what is this?” he muttered half to himself, and forthwith put his hand into his pocket, and all at once I felt myself lifted up into the air. Oh, happy moment, that he had deigned to take notice of the touching memento which gentle golden-haired Laurette had gently bestowed upon her young niece Marisia, for now at least there sprang into my being the ray of hope that I might yet be freed.
But not, alas, at that moment. I heard him say, to himself, “Ah, I recognize this trinket! It has graced the white throat of sweet little Marisia, and so it is dear to me, and I will keep it safe upon my person as my own memento of our joyous meeting. Impressionable as the dear child is, it would not be seemly to let her pine for the bucolic days she knew at Languecuisse, for she has a destiny that brooks no recollections of the past.”
And with this, he thrust me back into the pocket of the cassock, deeper than before, whereupon I rubbed my legs together in a furious outburst of powerless rage.
How long would it be before he again deigned to notice me, I asked myself with some brief anxiety in the matter. Oh, I did not need nourishment for quite some time yet, but the day must inevitably come when the pangs of hunger would urge me to spring upon some portly man or, better still, the delicate, soft, perfumed, gently nurtured flesh of a female in the prime of life and draw sustenance to strengthen me. Was there no way to emerge from this metal dungeon, whose confines were all too limited as regards scenery and freedom of movement? I had faith, so far as mementos went, I did not need this incarceration amid the pussy-curls of sweet Laurette; I would never forget her – I could not, since her haunting intimacy had been strongly with me from that very first moment when she had taken the scissors to her dainty lovegarden and depilated herself of that sweet spring of dark golden cunny-hair in whose silken bed I had been so obliviously reposing!
