The Convent School; Or, Early Experiences of a Young Flagellant
done with a red hot knife, the blood flowed down my back in streams,
and yet their rage seemed to increase at the sight of my sufferings.
My screams were awful, but only so much music to their ears. They
jeered and derided my cries for “God to have mercy on me, &c.,” said
“my time was come to die, but they would make me last as long as
possible, and draw out my agony to the very last gasp.”
This must all have passed in a very short time, but was an age of
intense suffering to me, and the finale was such a display of ferocity
that I sank under it, and thus robbed them of the pleasure of
prolonging my torture. The Superior seized me by the hair, and drawing
my head back, lashed her whip across my face and bosom, drawing more
blood at every cut, whilst old Serena, not to be outdone, took my
right leg under her arm, cut me dreadfully inside my thighs, along the
crack of my pussey, and made the tip of her whip reach the Mons
Veneris.
This was the last I could recollect, but when I came to myself I was
in my own bed, wrapped up in cloths soaked in water. No bones were
broken, and my health soon recovered sufficiently to enable me to
effect my escape, and avoid their further malice.
[Decoration]
Chapter III.
_Lucille’s Marriage and Adventures._
It was about 3 A.M. one fine morning when I escaped from the Ursuline
Convent; and made my way to the Hotel d’Angleterre, the porter in
answer to my summons was about to refuse to give me refuge, when a
young Englishman, who was just taking his candle in the hall, said,
“he’d be damned if I should not be taken care of,” and ordered the
chambermaid to be called to attend on me, and added that he would be
responsible for all expenses. “Certainly, my lord,” said the porter of
the hotel, but he added _sotto voce_, “I think he’s a fool to be so
easily imposed upon.”
I was too glad to have found a protector, (especially when I found he
was an aristocrat), so I quietly followed the _femme de chambre_, and
was content to await awhile for the _denouement_ of my adventure.
Breakfast was brought to me about eleven o’clock, and also a message
to say that Lord Dunwich, would do himself the pleasure of waiting
upon me in an hour’s time.
You may be sure I was all impatience to see the kind fellow who had
stood my friend, and was most agreeably surprised to find his manners
quite equal to his appearance when I saw him again.
His Lordship was greatly interested by the account of my escape from
the convent, and said he was a very particular friend of my betrothed
husband, the Earl of Ellington, and would put me under the protection
of a lady going to England, who would see me safe home. He was such a
handsome fellow, and my gratitude was so gushing that at the moment I
could have refused him no thing, and was delighted by the way he
lingered over a kiss, he would insist upon as his due, my whole soul
seemed to leap towards the generous fellow, and tears of
disappointment stood in my eyes when he was gone.
I never saw him again till my wedding day, two years later, when he
was best man to my husband, and in my eyes looked a thousand times
more loveable.
A married couple of sixteen and twenty-eight ought to have been
blessed with every happiness, but after the first three days of our
honeymoon the Earl’s temper seemed so overbearing and imperious, that
I began seriously to regret my fate, and looked forward to a life of
gilded misery. The Earl was fond of the turf, and often left me alone
whilst he spent a fortnight at Newmarket or Doncaster and York.
One day I was agreeably surprised by a call from Lord Dunwich, (we
were living in Grosvenor Square at the time), he looked more handsome
than ever, and seemed so full of sympathy for me in every respect that
I could not help falling into tears, and telling him all my fears, and
how I was neglected for nasty ugly fourlegged brutes of race-horses,
and that in fact I was sure Lord Ellington loved his Derby favourite
better than myself, and would rather I broke my neck than his pet
should fall lame.
“Ah, Lucille” he said, falling on his knees before me, “how your
distress cuts me to the quick, would to God I could comfort you in any
way! I have loved you from the first moment we met, although I knew
you belonged to a bosom friend, and now the wretch slights you; look
up, dear Lucille, from your tears, smile upon one who is devoted to
you body and soul!” And then seizing my hand, upon which he imprinted
a lot of impassioned kisses, “Ah, you will pardon my presumptuous
love, how can I help it?”
I was piqued by the Earl’s coldness towards me, and something impelled
me to pity the handsome suitor at my feet, so that although the tears
were still welling from my eyes, could not help smiling and caressing
his head as he looked up to my face.
“Darling Lucille, I may call you so now, you respond to my love, my
happiness is too great,” he exclaimed, drawing my unresisting body
down, so that our lips quickly met in a rapturous kiss of real love.
I was lost, and he so rapidly took advantage of everything, that
proceeding from one liberty to another, in less than ten minutes I was
an adulteress, but what a sweet sin, what transports of love shot
through our souls as we melted away again and again in the ecstasies
of mutual enjoyment; how we toyed with each other’s most secret
charms, and promised to renew our forbidden pleasure at every
convenient opportunity.
Alas, for our happiness, some spy informed the Earl of my sweet
_liaison_, he made an excuse to visit Brussels with me and again I
found myself incarcerated in a hateful convent.
The kindness of my husband on our journey from England (which I
afterwards found was only a part of his most artful programme), had so
imposed upon my rather soft-hearted nature, that I really felt sorry
that I ever been unfaithful to my marriage vows, although no doubt the
image of my loving paramour was firmly imprinted in my heart.
We went to operas, bal masques, saw all the sights, and enjoyed
ourselves immensely for a few days and being strict Catholics he one
day said jestingly, “I suppose, Lucille, we must go to confession, and
get absolution after having enjoyed ourselves, and confess all the
delightful sins we have committed; by-the-bye, be sure you do not
forget to confess having ridden a St. George on your husband, and
allowed him to spend his seed in your hand, or on your pretty bosom,
they are most awful sins, and will cost a pretty penny for absolution.
I should not be surprised if the Rev. Father undertook to inflict
personal chastisement _à la Girard et Cadière_,” he added, laughing.
“But, seriously,” I answered, “apart from joking, I know we ought to
do it, and will go to that church in the Rue de la Madeleine this very
day, I know I am a sinner, but don’t like to make a laugh of such
serious things.”
Then seating myself on his knee, I drew his face to mine, and kissed
him lovingly, as I added, “But, dear Francis, you won’t leave your
little wife so long again, will you, for those horrid horses? You
can’t imagine how dull and low spirited I get when left all by
myself.”
“What a pretty pouting little bride you look. Why, Lucille, the way
you kiss excites me as if we were still on the honeymoon trip; but
dearest,” he added, “a sporting man must see his horses tried and run,
then, you, know, I shall make up in the winter what you lose in the
summer; there’s nothing else to do then but to make love. Ha, you
sweet little devil, do you want to commit another sin before
confession?”
My hand had been gently caressing his prick outside his breeches, till
it was now rampant and impatient of the restraining cloth.
“Well,” he went on, following my example, by passing a hand up my
clothes, and gently tickling my clitoris with his forefinger, “we’ll
lump it all together, so there won’t be any more to pay. My Stars,
Lucille, how excitable you are. You’re spending on my fingers. It’s
nothing to blush about, little simpleton.”
I got off his lap, and kneeling before him, unbuttoned his flap, and
the engine of love seemed to leap into my hand, its fiery head, with
the skin turned back, looked so tempting, that I could not resist the
temptation to kiss and caress it for a few moments. My tongue played
lasciviously round the tender and excitable surface, whilst my hands,
were fondling his finely developed balls.
“Darling! Darling!” he ejaculated. “It’s coming! Oh! I can’t
stop—kiss—kiss—suck it. Take it in your mouth, Lucille! Oh! Ah! How
delicious! You darling, to think you would give me so much pleasure!”
I was as excited as himself, and sucked and swallowed his delicious
spendings to the very last drop, as he pressed my head down with his
hands, and gasped out his hands, and gasped out his ejaculations of
ecstasy.
“Now, it’s my turn, Sir. I mean to have a St. George, as you lie on
the hearthrug. Come, down with you at once, or I will bite it off,”
making him feel my teeth, as I playfully took it again in my mouth.
We had a delightful bout on the hearthrug, and I rode him till he
spent into my excited cunt a third time. Keeping his cock stiff, and
starting him again after each spend by the contractions of the folds
of my vagina, which he declared gave him the most exquisite and
voluptuous sensations, and that he had never experienced anything to
equal it in his life, many women as he had had in his time.
Presently I told him that as soon as I could get dressed I would go to
confession.
“Do love,” he replied, “and if the Confessor is reasonable with you, I
will go myself to-morrow, or send for him to wait on me at the hotel.”
I left him smoking a cigar, and about an hour-and-a-half afterwards
entered the church, where I was immediately accosted by an elderly
priest. “If the English lady wishes to confess, the Father Francisco
in yonder box is most suitable for Madame. He knows the English ways
so well, and was consecrated in England.”
I approached the box, which was in a very secluded corner of the
sacred building, and kneeling on a hassock, enquired, in a low voice,
“If the Rev. Father Francisco was ready to hear my confession?”
“Yes, my daughter, and I pray God you may have nothing but venial sins
to confess,” was the reply of my unseen Confessor.
In my innocence I related every act of our married life; how excited
we were in our love games, and the various attitudes we used to
heighten our enjoyment.
“Awfully sensual, my daughter. Your Confessor previous to marriage
must have admonished you as to the use of these unnatural postures in
following the dictates of nature in your endeavours to obey the first
commandment, ‘_to increase and multiply_.’ The holy rites of matrimony
ought not to be perverted by lascivious ideas and filthy sacrifices to
lust. It is a most serious thing my daughter, but before I consider
what penance to exact for such sins, tell me, as you value the
intercession of our Holy Mother, have you always been faithful to your
husband? If only by a look or a gesture, it is important to your
salvation hereafter that you should confess it now.”
I was silent, dumbfoundered for a moment or two. “Ah! my daughter,
conceal nothing. Alas! it is as I feared—conceal nothing from me, or
it will be impossible for me to grant you absolution.”
Thus pressed, and feeling but a full confession would avail me with
the Confessor, I told him everything, and especially how sorry I felt
at having allowed my pique at the Earl’s neglect to have carried me
into such a _liaison_, and that the tender regard he had lately
exhibited towards me smote me to the quick for my unfaithfulness, and
that that was the reason I had so given way to lasciviousness with
him, in order to compensate, by the perfect abandon of my love, for