The Baron and I hurried to her room, where we found Martine wrapped in a sheet, standing very stiffly, her arm flung out and declaiming a dramatic scene from Shakespeare, then turning to a song by Luis Mariano. When we tried to approach her, she screamed and tried to claw us with her fingernails. So my master had to call a psychiatrist who, witnessing her singular behavior, declared that she was subject to a cerebral derangement which he was sure would pass, but that she should be confined to a sanitarium. Overwhelmed with despair and believing himself responsible, Baron Prosper tore up the telegram — the cause of all the trouble — and cancelled his trip so he might remain with his niece.
When we visited her the next day in the courtyard of the luxurious sanitarium to which my master had had her taken, she was talking aloud as if many persons were there, and her bodice was unfastened, showing the two pink-tipped globes of her titties. Her eyes sparkled, and her chiseled fingers unconsciously made gestures of caressing — as if she were fondling a stiff prick between them. She made a little grimace with her soft rosy mouth and murmured, “Why did they bring me here, so far from those I love. I've only one desire and one need: to come, to come again, always to come.”
She seemed to quiver with an incredible voluptuousness; walking to a tree and planting her back against it, she suddenly produced a dildo and buried it into her pussy. Shivering and gasping with delight at its probing, she did not see a young nun appear, for all the nurses at this sanitarium were sisters. And the nun asked: “What are you doing, my child?”
Martine replied, “I'm trying to come, my sister.”
“Let me see that instrument!” Martine docilely removed it and handed it to the young nun, who examined it, then said sternly: “You must tell me where you found this.”
“On the shelf of a little closet on the first floor.”
“That is my closet!”
“My sister,” Martine pleaded, “I beg of you, let me have it, I need it so, I must come, oh have pity, my sister!”
“You shall have it — come with me now!” Sister Marie-Therese — for that was the lovely young nun's name — led Martine to a little barn which had formerly been used as a storeroom. Once the door had been securely bolted, Sister Marie-Therese took off her robes, strapped the dildo round her waist, made Mar-tine kneel down, then lofted her clothes over her head. Lowering Martine's drawers, and first kissing that lovely pair of bottom cheeks, the young nun probed the dildo between Martine's thighs. Then, expert in the art, Sister Marie-Therese fucked her as well as any man could do.
Under the delicious friction, Martine regained her sanity and took once again pleasure in life; she was drawn to climax and she kept repeating: “Ohh, deeper, my sister, deeper, it's so good, don't stop!” The young nun squeezed the dildo, and spirited into Martine's pussy a jet of liquid, simulating male sperm, and thereby completing the perfect illusion that a man was making Martine spend and spending in her as well.
That evening, Sister Concepcion took Martine into her room, stripped her naked and accorded her a pleasure which nature has accorded solely to men, thanks to this ingenious artificial device which usurps the male equipment. Stripping naked in turn, Sister Concepcion knelt down on her bed, bowing her head to the covers and arching up her bottom. Enchanted, Martine approached and was ready to slip the dildo into her hairy slit, but the attractive young nun pushed it away and, opening her bottom cheeks with one hand, guided the prong into the forbidden temple. She was accustomed to this, for the dildo burrowed in up to the very hilt, and Martine thus comprehended what was expected of her. Grasping the nun's titties with both hands, and with rhythmic thrusts, she buggered Sister Concepcion vigorously, drawing the dildo back to the very tip, then plunging it back pitilessly, aided by the ardent nun who met these charges by thrusting back her bottom eagerly. To quicken the nun's pleasure, Martin put a hand to the sticky cunny and frigged the hardening clitoris. Thus doubly besieged by carnal bliss, the young nun, in a voice strangled by emotion, poured out a strange litany:
“Ohh… prick full of… mercy… prick divine… cast into the entrails of her who offers herself in holocaust your celestial manna… oh, my God… I feel you in me… you burn me… refresh with your spurt of holy water the burning of hell inside me!” And she spent. By reaching back and squeezing the testicles of this dildo, she caused the jet of water to surge into her bowels, while Martine's fingers drew her to the giving down of her own furiously pent up lovecream. And she called out: “Oh, my God, I've come… may the liqueur drawn from my pussy, as well as that which comes from the divine prick, dispenser of eternal pleasure, be blessed… amen!”
After thus having said grace for her blessings, Sister Concepcion got up and led Mar-tine back to her room.
But if Martine had been initiated at a tender age in the games of love. Sister Marie-Therese could go her one better; she had lost her illusions at an age when one does not even begin to think of such naughty games. Her parents had been very pious and very wealthy and wanted her to become a nun, hoping that one day she might be the Mother Superior of a convent. That did not displease her, as even as a child she had a somewhat mystic temperament, being keenly intelligent and precocious. So her mother arranged with the priest of their parish to teach her rudimentary theology. And it was arranged that Therese go every Thursday afternoon to the priest's quarters for her lessons — I may add that I learned all these events from Martine herself.
On the second Thursday, a very warm day, the priest had removed his cassock, while Therese wore only a little pleated skirt and thin blouse. Tall for her age and well formed, she was seated on his knees listening attentively as the priest asked her: “Have you already seen the little Jesus?”
“Yes, Father, in his cradle.”
“Would you like to see him again?”
“Very much, Father.”
He drew his cock out of his underclothes. “Here, darling, here he is.”
“Oh,” Therese exclaimed, “how handsome he is!”
“Caress him, then, give him your hand.”
Docily, Therese caressed the cock, to find it stiffening at once to her touch.
“He's standing up!” she cried in astonishment.
“Not so loud, little one! Yes, you see he likes that — would you like him to go into your cradle?”
Innocently, Therese responded, “But it's not Christmas, and there isn't any cradle here.”
“No?” Then what is this, my child?” The priest put his hand under the little skirt and touched the girl's enchanting little pussy. Therese began to giggle, let herself be carried to his bed and stretched out on it, then watched him as he took off her drawers and his own shorts. Her eyes grew very big at the sight of his heavy balls. He approached the bed, and Therese took hold of his vigorous shaft, sliding her left hand between his legs to investigate these unfamiliar big hairy sacks. Then, at his instruction, she tickled the huge plumhead of his cock, after which he knelt over her and tickled her little pussy with the inflamed arrow her fingers had so exquisitely attuned.
He played with her a long while, kissing her soft little titties, her sleek belly, her long shapely, slender thighs, and then ran his tongue over her rosebud of a cunny. But he decided not to deflower that rosebud, so instead he turned her over onto her belly and anointed first his cock and then the rosette of her anus with vaseline. He was thirty-five years old, and had performed this ritual with boys as well as girls, but his specialty of sucking off the boys and gamahuching the girls had won their confidence so that they would not dream of telling their parents what he had first done to them.
Therese soon felt a thick hard object invade the dainty crevice of her bottom, thrusting inexorably forward. It was almost more than she could bear, but when he tickled her clitoris with a sage forefinger and drew her to her first girlish spending, her muscles expanded and contracted and thus aided his inroads till at last she felt the hot drench of his gism. He kissed and caressed her, praised her docility; then, washed, her clothes back in place and hair combed, she was sent away, promising to return the next Thursday.