Monique got up, and once again served some alcoholic beverages, and each time she was revealing her charms in the mirror of the table. A lusty ambiance was beginning to come in the darkening room. The sunset was giving off strange red lights that accentuated the voluptuous character of the place, and of what was happening, or going to happen in it.
One of the monks clumsily spoiled his white dress with liquor.
“Monique, would you please show our friend to the bathroom and with your fairy fingers repair that little damage?”
“Of course. Please, father, follow me.”
The stairs are dark, and Monique does not turn the light on. She climbs the steps slowly, side by side with the monk. He takes her by the arm, his hand shaking with desire:
“What a charming guide you are for such an escalade.”
She laughs softly, and through the dark and narrow passage, brings him in the bathroom. She turns the lights on, and easily with some water, fixes everything alright. He is blushing, his desire is evident, but he does not know what to say. Everything is silent; they go out. She turns the lights off, and they are together again in the dark corridor.
“Damn it,” says Monique, “I do not know where the button to the light is hidden.”
“I know it,” says the man by her side.
And his hands are on the blouse. He takes the young girl in his arms, and, through the thin material he caresses the nipples, already erected.
“Oh,” says Monique, “no, you should not. It is wrong, you must not-leave me alone.”
But she does not really resist when the two nervous hands lift her cardigan up, and free the two breasts. A warm breathing on her skin, a mouth that seizes her nipple. An intense sucking. Monique protests a little bit, just for decency's sake, and lets the hands that have already lifted the skirt high above the waist, caress the buttocks and then the belly, the crotch.
She pushes away from him.
“No, not that! You are exciting me, and what would Darcourt say?”
She takes him back to the sitting room, and leaves enough disorder in her attire so that everyone will understand… her breasts are sharply pointed under the cardigan. She serves some more liquor while the two monks are speaking confidentially together.
Shortly afterwards, the other monk, taking advantage of the fact that Max is showing some drawings to his colleague, asks Monique to show him to the bathroom. They have hardly reached the stairs, when she feels two hands caressing her bottom, uplifting her skirt. A mouth glues itself to her flesh, in long warm kisses. She lets the man take her in his arms, the cardigan is rolled around her neck, and two hands caress the opulent teats. Soon after a mouth sucks at her nipples.
Once again, her buttocks are receiving the caresses from nervous hands. An inquiring finger is titillating her asshole while a penetrating forefinger seeks at her sex. She feels suddenly under her hand, along her body, that the monk is placing his erected prick. She takes the shivering rod between her fingers and caresses the tool while the man masturbates her passionately.
The monk suddenly glues his belly to hers, and tries to insinuate his prick between her legs.
“No, no, not that. I am a virgin.”
He stops, surprised, and his fingers checks that revealed particularity. She twists, surprised by that unexpected contact, and she turns around. He leans her against the wall and suddenly she feels, to her surprise, the prick sliding between the globes of her buttocks like a plough. She feels the hard texture of that muscular flesh. He whispers ardent words by her ear, one of his hands caressing her breasts, and the other one alternating between her ass and her sex.
“Let me slide in you. Just a little, nothing. Yes, just a little…”
She shakes her head…
“No, leave me alone. Are you insane? No!”
But she desires to be ass fucked by that man who does not seem to be really master of his senses. She tries to move away, and only succeeds in presenting her teats to him.
He immediately sucks greedily at the nipples. While he caresses her, he places his prick between her fingers. She enjoys caressing that hard and soft flesh. She presses the cylinder and caresses the round head; she feels the pulse in it. The balls are round and full, the hair hard and curly. She feels desire in her veins. If he could only guess it. He becomes demanding, bends to suck some more at the tense flesh of her bosom. The prick slides away from the finger's embrace and that breaks the enchantment. All of a sudden she is ashamed, and she fixes her dress. He follows her downstairs, in silence.
In the sitting room, nobody is paying attention to them, but at a glance at Max, she realizes that he was not expecting them that soon. She is disappointed, and nervous, she does not serve properly; soon she breaks a glass and answer Max's reproach very roughly.
Then everything moves fast, like in a dream. She sees the room turn upside down, feels Darcourt's arm around her waist, and then she felt Max's powerful thighs paralyzing her, and her skirt lifted up. Her bottom was revealed in the sunset light. The two monks were staring at the offered bottom, the closed thighs, and the propped buttocks. Already she was slapped on her fanny. She moaned and cried-was it pain? shame? pleasure? or merely surprise? She never knew it.
“No, no-not that, Darcourt. Are you out of your head?”
But he would not listen to the young girl's supplication, and would go on with his spanking of her rotundities. Oh, it was not a hard one. He did not want to hurt her, but simply to bring her to that state of excitement that he knew so well, so that she would become his thing, and also his guests' thing. He did not know whether she would let foreign pricks penetrate that perfect bottom, but he wanted his guests to take pleasure, at least intellectually, in contemplating her delicate charms. And the slapping went on, only punctuated by her cries and the sighs of desire of the men, contemplating that beauty maintained between Max's knees.
Soon enough the bottom was red. An intense warmth irradiated her body bringing a new excitement to it. Her pulse was beating hard at her temples. She resisted for a long moment the order that he gave her to open her thighs. And she only gave up when her flesh could not take the pain any more. Then, like a dismantled puppet, she opened and revealed to the men her splendid little pink slit, with her puckered asshole, like some mysterious fruit laying between the two globes of her buttocks.
Silence came again, and Monique enjoyed the sensation of being admired like a caress on her unveiled femininity.
Max said: “I hope that you will forgive her little misfortune… And I also hope that you think that she was punished severely enough?”
“Yes, my friend, that little girl paid enough for that menial sin, her flesh is burning enough (she felt hands on her buttocks) but, to my humble opinion, she deserves little mortification that will persuade her of the importance of the mistake that she committed. What would you think if we asked her to serve us another glass of that delightful liquor in the attire of our good mother Eve?”
“That is what I call a good idea. Did you hear my child?”
“Oh, not that, I do not accept. Now Dar-court hear me. I refuse. Oooh, Oooh, enough, enough, no, I hurt too much… enough… Aaah, yes, I will…”
The blows were falling on her buttocks, fast, hard and dry… And the bottom was twisting in all directions, without great care of the suggestive visions that it allowed when the legs were accidentally opening.