Brother, be warned: I am entrusting you with my very happiness in this. Do not fail me.
M.
---oOo---
Mademoiselle Sophie d'Aubers to Mademoiselle Antoinette Collinet
April 4th 1782
Dear Antoinette
I expect the nuns are much relieved at my departure, and Mother Superior especially so! Do they praise you more freely, now that the shadow of your wicked cousin no longer falls across the light of your own goodness? It is strange, is it not, how differently you and I have experienced convent life, my rebellions earning me such frequent whippings, whilst you (I assume?) remain a stranger to the birch.
How is my dear Sister Madeleine? She forbade me to write, saying I had become too attached to her and must learn to stand on my own feet. I fear she has forgotten me already.
Although it was exhilarating to escape at last from the drab restraints of the convent, and to embark upon my new life here in Paris, I confess I almost wish myself back with you all after what has happened. Oh, Antoinette! I have such awful news, and I am quite in despair, for my mother has betrayed me most horribly.
I am a prisoner. Yes! She has locked all the doors to my suite, and has threatened to despatch me to Father Dufouet at the Church of St Etienne for a whipping if I do not submit to her will.
But I am, as usual, running wildly ahead of myself - "Stop, Sophie! Slow down!" I hear you cry, dear Antoinette. And yes, of course you are right. Let me take a breath and explain how things came to this pass, for you will, I think, be aghast at my tale.
I had been home several days, basking in the delights of my fine new dresses from the Rue de Rivoli, and feeling so proud to have my own maid, and of my new status as a young lady of fashion, when the horrible stain of a terrible fate came to blight my life - I fear, forever.
The name of this horror is Gradellin, a pale ghost of a gentleman from Normandy, whom (I was informed just two days ago) I must marry.
Cousin, he is entirely unendurable!
Monsieur Gradellin is forty-one years old, short and plump, and his hair (as I glimpsed when he removed his perruque at dinner to scratch beneath) has almost entirely fled his oddly misshapen head. He speaks only to deliver long and tiresome homilies on the power of the Lord's Grace and the eternal benefits of suppressing our desires as we contemplate the joys of humility. So many yawns have I had to suppress during his long visits that I am sure my mouth, which I have been assured is not without prettiness, must be quite stretched out of shape!
Mother, of course, worships him. Papa's passing left her in thrall to a string of similarly miserable men. Gradellin, however, is the first to possess an income of ten thousand a year, and to be in search of a young wife. It is on this altar, Mother commands, that I must be sacrificed. Oh cousin! I am exhausted with weeping, and quite bereft of hope. My maid, Pascaline, is too afraid of Mother, and of losing her new post, to be of any practical help.
I have heard tell that this Father Dufouet, despite being of a great age, is much in demand among those mothers who seek to impose their will on disobedient daughters, because his whippings, they say, never fail to achieve their purpose; namely, the complete surrender and acquiescence of the young lady concerned. Well, he shall not defeat me! I am no novice when it comes to baring my back. Although Sister Madeleine's whippings were given, I admit, with compassion and love, I am sure I can withstand the efforts of an old priest. I will not give in!
Pray for me, cousin, and write to me soon, I beg you, with news of Sister Madeleine.
Sophie
---oOo---
Mme Antoinette Collinet to Mme Sophie d'Aubers
March 30th 1782
Dear Cousin Sophie
I received your letter this morning and read it with dismay, for I think you most ungrateful. Have we not always been taught that we must honour both father and mother? In the absence of your dear Papa, should you not respect the wishes of Aunt Matilde with even greater alacrity? And I cannot believe this Monsieur Gradellin to be as awful as you describe - he sounds to me a worthy gentleman of solemn Christian virtues.
You asked after Mother Superior. She is, of course, as strict as ever, and I am sure she must indeed offer prayers of gratitude for your departure! Do you remember Marie-Helene Calbert, the younger sister of Josephine? Well, she was whipped in the refectory before us all last night for writing a love poem to a young chevalier. Oh, how she cried! It was pitiful to behold. And Mother Superior was even more fervent than usual in her verbal accompaniment: "The temptations of vanity and the flesh," she repeated as she swung the birch, "are the slippery path to Hell and damnation." But we all knew Marie-Helene deserved it, for she is intolerably vain, and forever boasting of her 'knowledge' of carnal affairs.
Sister Madeleine has inquired more than once for news of you, so I apprised her of your awkward situation, in which she seemed most interested. She made expressions of sympathy, and asked me to assure you that you are in her thoughts, and that you may now write to her if you feel you are in need of guidance.
Be wise, cousin - think how distressed poor Aunt Matilde will be if you continue to defy her. I shall pray for you.
Antoinette
---oOo---
Mme Sophie d'Aubers to Sister Madeleine
April 10th 1782
Dear Sister
How I have missed you! Thank you for sending word that I might write to you. My heart is all a-flutter as I sit here, shifting uneasily on my softest cushions - for I have been well whipped and cannot sit comfortably. No doubt you would chide me for turning to such a luxury, when at the convent I had only hard wooden benches to sit upon after your own sweet chastisements of me - benches that served, as you so often pointed out, to allow the effects of the lesson to be remembered all the more effectively.
My cousin Antoinette tells me that she has informed you of my situation, namely my mother's insistence that I marry this Monsieur Gradellin.
Well, I have, as I said, paid dearly with my backside for my refusal. But the manner of it you will scarcely believe. For I am, as they say, 'ruined', Sister, yet I think there can never have been a girl more content to announce such a dreadful fate. Let me tell it from the start.
On Tuesday, Monsieur Gradellin called again and Mother made an excuse to leave us alone together. He seemed exceedingly nervous, almost as if he were indisposed, but after a long silence he rose from his chair and approached me. Then, descending awkwardly to his knees, he declared,
"Mademoiselle d'Aubers, you cannot have failed to notice with what intense passion I look upon ..."
I burst out laughing.
"Passion, Monsieur? You speak of passion?" said I. "Why, you are as dry as a stick and as featureless, too. Indeed, I have failed to notice anything of the kind. Now please, stand up and stop this charade at once!"
That I had humiliated him past all forgiveness I knew only too well, for that indeed had been my purpose. He left the room with the greatest speed, and I heard him speaking with Mother in the hall. Her voice was raised in indignation.
"No, Monsieur, you must not return to Normandy. I will have her whipped - daily if necessary - until she learns obedience. You will see..."
I crept to the door to hear more clearly; his reply came as no surprise:
"Madame d'Aubers, you must not have her whipped on my account. Such a thing is not proper for a young lady. If you believe there is still a hope of changing her mind, then do it with the imposition of prayer and fasting - let her sup only on bread and water for the space of a week, with the Holy Book as her sole companion. Let the Lord work His way on her, and if that does not succeed in altering her will, then she is not the maid for me."
I confess, Sister, I could not suppress my laughter at these words - what a bloodless old fool! I resolved with even greater determination to resist their plan - I would rather die than be wed to such a dull bag of bones!
Mother, of course, after Gradellin's departure, had not a moment's hesitation in dismissin
g his advice, and I was escorted that very afternoon by Baudon, our giant of a groom, to the Eglise St Etienne. Mother had sent word ahead to Father Dufouet, no doubt requesting the longest and keenest of whippings for me.
But when Baudon and I reached the church, we were informed that the old Father had been taken with a sudden bout of the ague, and that his place was being filled that day by a Father Lupinard. Poor Baudon was unsure how to proceed - Mother's instructions had been to deliver me into Father Dufouet's hands alone. But I prevailed upon Baudon to spare me any further delay - the waiting, I assured him, is as bad as the thing itself. He felt, I knew, some sympathy for my situation, and the tears I brought to my eyes soon persuaded him to take me down to the crypt to receive my punishment.
I had heard of this place from my friend Lisette, who was sent there on more than one occasion by her mother, La Contesse de Louzon, before her own marriage. And it was exactly as Lisette had described: at the foot of the narrow steps a large door stood open to a low, narrow corridor, lit by a torch in a sconce on the wall. Baudon had to bend as we made our way along it to another door which stood open at the far end. We came then into the high-ceilinged crypt, with stone walls and rough, uneven flagstones beneath our feet. My shivering was not only on account of my fear, Sister - the place was cold and damp, the wetness of the black walls glistening in the light of the many candles arranged about the edges of the floor.
In the middle was the whipping block Lisette had also spoken of - a wooden construction with straps hanging from its sides, upon which no doubt I was soon to be secured. And on the wall to the left, hanging from a hook, was the martinet the bite of whose cords she had sworn to me she would never forget.
Standing motionless by the block, hands clasped in front of his coarse brown robe, his face hidden within a copious cowl, was this Father Lupinard.
His voice was deep, his accent surprisingly aristocratic:
"Thank you, brother," he said to Baudon, without raising his head. "You may wait for the Mademoiselle in the nave above; and close the doors behind you as you go - the cries of the punished must not disturb the worship of the righteous."
"Yes, Father," said Baudon, giving me a pitying look. Bowing awkwardly, he backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. The priest did not move. In the silence, I heard Baudon making his way back along the corridor, then the sound of the other door closing, sealing me inexorably within this place of punishment from which no escape was possible.
"So, young lady, you defy your mother and have been sent to be whipped." His voice came deep and steady from within the cowl, but there was the faintest tone of amusement in it that made me uncomfortable.
"Yes, Father."
"Very well. You will remove your shawl, your skirts and your underskirts and kneel on here." He indicated the whipping-block.
Whilst I began to undress, shaking with cold and fear, he turned and went to the wall where the martinet hung; I saw him lift it off its hook and shake it so that the cords fell loose. My shivers increased.
When I knelt on the block, the priest pulled my bloomers down so that my buttocks were bared, and proceeded to fasten the straps tightly across the backs of my knees and the small of my back. After this, he secured my wrists. I pulled gently at these various bonds and whimpered to find myself so soundly restrained. My helplessness - and my misery - was complete.
It was then that my chastiser, this substitute who was no priest at all, revealed himself. Pulling back the cowl which had hidden his face, he stood by my head, took my chin in his hand and stared into my eyes.
"I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Mademoiselle," he said, most politely. "I am the Vicomte de Malcoeur, and you are about to taste joys beyond your wildest imaginings."
Before I could utter so much as a word of protest - though I was, as you may imagine, left almost speechless by this stranger's peculiar prediction - he had stepped away and I felt him draping the martinet over my backside. The thin cords tickled my bottom, then came together in the middle to touch (for, without shame, it was indeed there that this supposed Vicomte dangled them) my private place.
I confess that my confusion and embarrassment were mixed with a delightful anticipation.
"Are you ready, my lovely?" he asked.
Before I could answer, I heard a quiet swoosh and almost in the same instant felt a multitude of stinging lines score my buttocks. They smarted and tingled, and I groaned and shifted my hips - as much, at any rate, as my bonds allowed.
He continued with several very light strokes, and they felt so delightful - the cords were a little harsher in their feel than the twigs of your birches, Sister, but the manner in which he covered every part of my posterior made me strain to meet each stroke, just as you used to exhort me to.
And then I heard him say: "Let us begin, then, for your mother has decreed that you must be well whipped, and I would hate to disappoint the illustrious Madame d'Aubers."
At which he must have swung the martinet with all his might, for in the next instant I felt a terrible burning burst across my rear - a dozen lines of deeply stinging agony which made me cry out in shock and outrage.
"Oh, Sir!" I cried. "You strike too hard! Have mercy, please..."
He laughed and struck again, and again I screamed. The fire went through me, quite dispelling all my previous pleasure. As he flailed my soft flesh, I pulled at the leather straps that held my hands, and bucked against those at my back and legs - to no avail, of course, for they held me tight. My sole desire was to evade those scouring lashes that tore at my skin.
He moved to my other side, and, ignoring my desperate pleas ("No more, sir, please, no more!" I cried), he began again. Each cord seemed to cut my flesh like a knife, and the tears spilled from my eyes as I yelped and groaned beneath the merciless onslaught. When he whipped my thighs, my screeches rose a hundredfold - never had I been so cruelly thrashed, and I wept as I begged him for mercy.
So immersed was I in the pain that sped through every nerve that I scarcely noticed when the scourging ceased; or when he was upon me, pushing himself at my buttocks.
Oh, Sister, I blush even to name the act, and I blush the more to admit that, far from feeling the shame I know is my due, I am instead tingling with excitement and pleasure at the memory of my deflowering. For he was as merciful in this as before he had been cruel - he took such gentle care in entering me, and in inching his way into my depths, that the pain I first felt soon became a divine melting of my whole being, incited to greater heights by the aftermath of my whipping.
In short, Sister, I entered the crypt of the Eglise St Etienne as a maid, and I emerged as a woman.
The Vicomte has said he will soon call upon us so as to begin the process of a formal courtship, and that I must in the meantime be most diligent in hiding my joy, for, he says, mothers have a way of seeing such a change in their daughters. But I could not resist confiding in my maid, Pascaline, who, witnessing my excitation upon my return home, was soon party to every glorious detail of my newfound bliss. Ten francs for her silence, with the promise of more, was a small price to pay for the pleasure of gaining a precious confidante.
I can only wonder at how you must be castigating me now in your mind. I know I have sinned most terribly, but I find I do not care. I am in love, and my future is secured. Please forgive me, Sister, for you know that, after my sweet Vicomte, it is you only that I love the most.
Sophie
---oOo---
The Vicomte de Malcoeur to Sister Madeleine
April 17th 1782
My dear sister
No doubt you are by now aware that the deed is done as you wished and planned. The young Mademoiselle, as you predicted she would, revealed all to her maid, whom I have since suborned, with a mere fifty francs, to spread the tale to all the maids and servants of her acquaintance. Within days, the scandal will be whispered about in every salon, the mother will bury her daughter's shame in the only manner and place available, and you will have
the object of your desire.
For myself, it was a pleasant interlude and has done my reputation no harm at all. Moreover, it is, as you foresaw, most gratifying to have avenged myself upon the insufferable Madame d'Aubers.
I look forward to visiting you and your young lover before too long. Although I suspect the young Sophie might at first wish me dead, I am confident you will soon have her purring with contentment, and indeed thanking me profusely for her deliverance back into your hands!
Malcoeur
---oOo---
Mademoiselle Antoinette Collinet to Mademoiselle Sophie d'Aubers
June 30th 1782
Dear Cousin Sophie
I do not know how to express my sorrow and dismay at your disgrace, but I trust that you are finding some solace now that you are back at the convent once more. I pray that you may discover within yourself, through the Grace of our dear lord, the forgiveness that your mother has as yet been unable to bestow upon you. She, poor woman, weeps daily and will not leave her house.
Please forgive such a sudden change in tone, but my own news is most joyful. Since leaving the convent at Easter, not long indeed before your own sudden and unexpected return there, I have been most fortunate to have been introduced to none other than the Monsieur Gradellin whose proposal you chose to reject.
It is not quite the coincidence it might appear, for in his great kindness and generosity he actually sought us out to offer his condolences at the scandal you brought upon the family. And his magnanimity did not extend solely to a single courtesy visit: he came daily, and within a week declared his wish that we be married, to which my father has granted his assent.
Spanking Cheat: ... and other short stories Page 5
