Click on image to enlarge.
Category: Erotica/Classic Erotica
Description: A Classic of Victorian Erotica! In the tradition of Nunnery Tales, here is another erotic novel from the 1900s that takes a closer look behind the closed doors of a convent. Welcome to the notorious Convent of St. Claire, where the abbess is the curvaceous Sister Agatha and the confessor is the infamous free-thinker Father Eustace. With these two voluptuaries at the helm, is it any wonder that the pretty nuns of the order commit themselves so eagerly to the worship of Venus? Into this delightful sanctuary come two refugees: the beautiful Madame d'Ermonville and her son, the prodigiously endowed Auguste. Inspired by the zeal of Agatha and her acolytes--the heavenly Helene, the entrancing Emilie, the adorable Adele--the new arrivals soon find themselves enthusiastic converts to the devotions of the flesh! As Reshma says, "The author has the talent of being able to describe the most blatant sex acts with a delicacy and finesse that leave the reader breathless."
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler, 2005
eBookwise Release Date: February 2005
19 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [213 KB]
Reading time: 149-209 min.
Father had many enemies. He'd borrowed huge sums and failed to pay them back within the allotted time. His affiliations--during a time when the political climate in la belle France was very stormy--only exacerbated the situation. He fled Paris, leaving Mother and me to face the tides of outrageous fortune. We were not quite penniless, only uncomfortable. And it was almost certain we would be held accountable for my father's indiscretions and poor business acumen.
Fortunately, we were not without recourse. My mother's sister, Agatha, was the Mother Superior of the Convent of Ste. Claire, a nunnery reposing in a remote corner of the wine country. Presumably we could find safety there until the tides of change again flowed in our favor. Mother and I, gathering what belongings we could, lost little time in retaining a trustworthy driver and carriage to transport us there. Like thieves in the night we left our home, praying that we would one day be able to reclaim it.
We arrived at the convent without difficulty or impediment, though caution required that we take a circuitous route that consumed the better part of a week. Upon our arrival we were met with open arms by the Abbess, my aunt. Never having met her, I was shocked to discover that here was a most attractive woman, even bundled as she was in the habit of her order. But the shapeless cloth did little to obscure the fullness of her figure--the heavy, round breasts, the ample hips, the voluptuous curve of her buttocks. I unashamedly felt a familiar stirring in my eighteen-year-old loins.
My aunt appraised me with dark eyes that twinkled mischievously and, dare I say it, lasciviously.
"And this is Augustus, of course," she said, extending her hand. "A finely made man, just like his father." She uttered a low laugh that was joined by my mother. "You'll find that the life we live here is not what you might expect, despite the trappings, my dear Auguste," she explained as she led us down silent corridors and past stark chambers occupied by what I took to be some very pretty novices. "Father Eustace, the priest and confessor of our abbey, will explain it to you over supper, I am sure. You'll like him, I think; he's a great deal like you." She smiled again while running a hand down my back and over my bottom. This didn't escape the notice of my mother, but to my surprise she said nothing.
The introductions done, I was left to my own devices the remainder of the afternoon. Mother napped, exhausted from the ordeal of our journey. I spent the hour until dinner wandering the well-kept gardens, admiring the beds of fragrant blossoms and appreciating the freedom that might have been denied me had we remained in Paris.
I saw few of the inhabitants of the place. They seemed bound up in their devotions, though one or another would pass and offer me a greeting or a too-inviting smile. The only person to approach me, however, was a tall man in the vestments of his office whom I took to be Father Eustace. He came right up to me and greeted me with a warm embrace that took me quite by surprise. He was as old as my mother--that is to say, fortyish--and most handsome I would say. In health he seemed strong and robust and I found myself liking him immediately. This was not so unusual, as I found out soon afterward. But for now we simply walked the gravel-strewn paths and spoke of Paris, my father, and our flight. Father Eustace was most sympathetic.
"A shame indeed, Auguste," he shook his head. "I know your father. Not quite the gentleman he always made himself out to be. But you are a fine fellow, it seems, and none the worse for any of this." He stopped and pondered a little. "There is much here for a young man as yourself to like, Auguste. If one of the women here takes a fancy to you, as most of them probably will I dare say, you may even forget Paris for a time. Very little will be denied you, if you so desire it. In fact, I've already caused a bedroom to be set aside for you and advised one of our novices of the duties expected of her."
"Duties?" I asked, all very innocently. Of course, I was not so naive as I may have seemed. My mother had apprised me in general terms of the 'devotions' that were practiced here, and of the indulgences that one might expect. Indeed, I had much to look forward to if her account held any degree of accuracy.
"Yes, I've told her to let you sample what our order has to offer, relying of course on your discretion to keep these matters most secret."
By this time the sun was lowering and Father Eustace turned me toward the low stone building wherein awaited my mother and aunt. My education was about to begin.
To supper we went accordingly, and enjoyed ourselves upon a most delicious stimulating banquet, with lots of champagne and liqueurs, and other stimulants. In the midst of our enjoyment, when the ladies' flushed faces and sparkling eyes began to show the effect which the spirits had taken upon them, Father Eustace, addressing my mother, begged her to recount for our benefit the history of her engagement and marriage to Monsieur d'Ermonville. He especially wondered what could possibly have induced her to unite herself with so useless and disreputable an old gentleman.
My mother, after a little hesitation, said that her honored parents had, in accordance with Parisian customs, betrothed her in marriage to the richest and most eligible man of their acquaintance. Monsieur d'Ermonville had seemed to desire the honor of an alliance with her family--and so had been accepted to wed her. Her wishes on the subject were not consulted in the least.
"And indeed," said my mother, "if I had been consulted, I don't know what selection I should have made, for my notions about men and the nature of their connection with our sex were of the most vague character. And as to what a man's private parts were like, I had not the most distant notion, never having seen a cock or balls until my wedding day. But as I suppose I must contribute my share towards the amusement of the company, and as we are nothing but a private party here, I don't much mind relating the story of my marriage.
"I will pass over all the uninteresting particulars of the marriage ceremony, and merely remark that I was elegantly dressed in virgin white. My dear old mother herself superintended the arranging of my underclothing which, of course, was made as tempting and enticing as possible.
"Permit me to remark here, that there are a good many girls who are ignorant of the peculiar value of paying careful attention to their undergarments. A neat, clean petticoat short enough to permit a liberal display of a well-shaped leg, elegantly clad in white, scarlet, or black silk stockings, will make a prick stand, while the gaudiest silk or satin robe may fail to accomplish that very thing. At any rate, its good effect was perceptible in my case; my elegant underclothing, together with, I suppose, my virgin charms, eventually enabled my battered, worn-out husband to raise an erection."
"Really!" exclaimed Lady Agatha. "I knew the old fellow as well, and he certainly wasn't as successful when he attempted to ravish me but two days before the ceremony. He got me down on the sofa, and could then only bob his half-limp cock about the outside of my cunt and bottom, and could never get it even an inch beyond the entrance."
At this interruption we all laughed, then my mother continued, "After the ceremony was over, and I had been installed in my new home, where I must acknowledge everything was most luxurious, it was only natural that I rest myself on one of the large couches in my elegant boudoir. I suppose it was just as natural that Monsieur would want to inspect the piece of goods which had just become his own. I must say I thought he was indelicate, but I had been specially warned by my mother not to show reluctance or even timidity regarding anything that he chose to do to me. So when he lifted my white silk robe first, and then began to raise my undergarments one by one until my legs were exposed, I blushed a good deal but said nothing. Finding that there was no hesitation on my part, he became more encroaching, and soon the shape of my thighs was no secret to him; these he rewarded with lascivious kisses and long, wet strokes of his tongue. Finally he came to my belly, then my cunt. These were openly displayed and came in for a share of his sensual caresses. He undid his breeches with hasty and tremulous fingers. I had never seen the like of what this revealed. His prick was certainly stiff. I am now a judge of such matters: I was not then, and though he was the same as other men, now I know that his tool was neither thick, long, nor even as stiff as it should have been. What it would have become if he had managed to effect an entrance into my pussy it is impossible to tell. Into a well-fucked woman he might eventually have worked his way. However, I was not only a virgin, but an uncommonly tight one at that, as I dare say one of the gentlemen present can testify."
Here Father Eustace gave a low chuckle.
"Well, he pulled my thighs wide open, but still was very gentle. Then he introduced his fingers into the lips of my maiden orifice and opened them for his proposed invasion.
"Alas, it was not to be. He certainly got the somewhat flaccid bulb-like end of his overworked and worn-out tool within the portals of my moss-covered sanctuary, but further he could not go. His ramrod was not stiff enough to penetrate any further, nor had he strength of loin to drive it in. But the old boy had some spunk left in him, rather to my discomfort. For after pumping away and stroking my white belly and thighs for some minutes and sucking my breasts, he actually emitted a feeble injection of sperm which did nothing more than moisten the outside of my cunt and made me unpleasantly wet about my bottom. He seemed both proud and satisfied, and I do believe he traces the origin of Master Auguste to this attempted fuck of his bride on her wedding day. I need hardly tell you that I was anything but satisfied, and have reason to think differently of Auguste's parentage, as we will shortly discover.
"It would hardly amuse you, and would only disgust me, to recall the many occasions when my elderly spouse annoyed me by tumbling and ruffling my clothes in his feeble attempts to do his duty at all times and in all places--all in vain. I thought it my duty as a young wife to consent to his wishes, and to allow him to do his best; but it was useless, disappointing work. For instance, I had dressed myself for dinner most elaborately on one occasion, but before proceeding to the salon where our guests waited I glanced in a tall mirror which stood there. I was certainly looking very well and was well satisfied with my appearance. So also, as ill luck would have it, was my husband, who had noiselessly entered the room and was gloating over the beautiful piece of property that he called his wife.
"I immediately turned from the mirror upon seeing him. I suggested the propriety of our descending to the salon to receive our guests, but no, nothing would serve him but shoving his leathery hands up my petticoats, fingering me in a fierce way that hurt my tender cunt lips and disarraying the elaborate toilet that I had made. Worse still he insisted upon my getting down on my hands and knees. This was a position I had never been in before, but I believe I would have submitted to any indignity in the way of position if I thought I would be well fucked. For the fact of the case is, I was getting to feel an indescribable want of something--something that I had not yet experienced. I suppose his proceedings, such as fingering me, opening and sucking my cunt with his rough tongue, and rummaging my rump with his fingers contributed to this dissatisfied state of feeling. At any rate, on the occasion I am describing, I submitted to the posture he required in the faint hope that a change of position might bring about the desired result. My husband was evidently delighted; he kissed my rump so voraciously that I am sure he must have made the cheeks quite red. Then he kissed my cunt and inserted his tongue in it until I wished and hoped more than ever that he might prove himself a man. Then he--oh! Never mind what he did next. Suffice it to say that his desires, not being fulfilled, prompted him with the most bestial ideas. And here was I, a blooming young bride of seventeen, still retaining my maidenhead, obliged to submit to his lustful tyranny.