The Girl from the Convent

The looking glass was of poor quality, clouded around the edges and the glass bulging, showing a parody of the girl standing in front of it. In the mirror, Adeline looked much like herself, but the flaws in the glass made her breasts bulge out comically and her hips show much wider than they were . She gazed at herself haughtily, the pale flesh of her body showing nearly white in the early light of dawn. She ran her hands down her body, feeling the smoothness of her skin. She admired her face, her large dark eyes staring at herself in vanity. "He has chosen well," she said to her reflection, "He will not regret his investment."

"Adeline!" the grating voice of Sister Mathilde echoed down the hallway, "Adeline, by God you had better be dressed in there!"

"Just a moment," Adeline groaned. She slipped her shift over her head. A parody of being dressed, her naked form still visible under the thin cotton. The rest of her clothes came next, and soon the lithe young creature was covered head to toe in a simple black dress, appropriate for the convent.

"You would do well not to keep him waiting," Sister Mathilde's voice said again, this time at the door of her cell, "He's kept you here, you know, you ought to be grateful!"

"Yes, Sister," Adeline replied, rolling her eyes. She tied her long black hair up and pinned it, covering it with a white kerchief, as all of the convent's wards did. She was older than most of them, a few months passed her eighteenth birthday. Most girls gave up on their benefactors ever coming for them by the time they were sixteen or seventeen. Most of those girls took the veil, preferring to live their lives within the walls of the abbey than take their chances on the outside world.

"And that he's kept you as long as he has!" Mathilde exclaimed, still at the door.

"I understand my duties, Sister," Adeline called,

"When is he coming?"

"When is he coming? Why he's been here for near twenty minutes now! He grows impatient!"

Adeline sashayed lazily towards the door. She put on a show for the other wards, not being afraid of the man who had bought her from her parents and sent her to the convent, to be raised away from the prying eyes of the world, until he was ready to take her as his bride. The other girls, many in the same situation, trembled and cried and begged to take their vows and their place among the sisters. Adeline, though, waited impatiently for the day when she could walk out of the gate that she had walked into at the age of ten, and rejoin the world as she felt was her right. No matter what the old man looked like, his money and influence would certainly buy her a place in society... whatever the price. That he had waited all of eight years was a source of secret shame to her. She was sure that he had seen her through the bars of the gate, the only window to the world outside the thick stone walls of the nunnery, and thought her unworthy. "Well!" she thought, "He won't think me unworthy now."

She exited her cell and was met by Mathilde, who seized her by the elbow and dragged her through the cloister and out into one of the buildings on the outside of the abbey. She averted her eyes from the stares of the nuns and novitiates who labored in the gardens and over steaming kettles of laundry. "A life of hard work is not my lot," she thought, "They feel sorry for me, don't they... well the joke's on them!"

She was led to an upstairs room, devoid of furniture except for an old, rickety table, and two chairs.

"Wait here!" Mathilde ordered. She nodded primly and seated herself on one of the chairs.

It seemed like an eternity, her thoughts racing. She had never laid eyes on the gentleman who would now come to claim her. Most of them were old, in their sixties, wanting wives young enough to be their granddaughters to comfort them in their old age. She imagined hers would be one of those, paunchy and white-haired, probably incapable of performing the act which seemed to be so dreaded by all who dwelled within the convent's walls. Besides Jacques, the simple-minded lad who took care of the grounds, and the rotating series of guards who stood watch outside the gate – to keep the world out or to keep the nuns in she was never quite sure – she had never laid eyes on any man since she was a child. That, of course, did not mean that she was unschooled... there had been one other girl, with whom she shared a room in the six months since her eighteenth birthday. Hélène was her name and the two were of the same age, having been born only a week apart. She was a wild girl, incorrigible in the eyes of the good sisters. Hélène had a cousin to whom she was very close, who was married to a man who worked in a printing press. This cousin smuggled her books from the outside, books that described all sorts of sordid things that men and women did to one another. The two of them had pored over them, more closely than they had ever studied the word of God. The author was certain Marquis whom Hélène said was shut in a madhouse. Of course, the two of them being shut up alone so much had found the time to act out some of these activities on each other, and so Adeline felt herself reasonably well versed in what would be expected of her.

Hélène had been married off several weeks beforehand, to a businessman recently come to claim her from the West Indies. She had not received any letters yet, had promised to write to her once she herself had been claimed.

She was startled from her memories by the return of Sister Mathilde, the Abbess, and the man who could only have been her betrothed. Fear suddenly seized the girl, and she had to force herself to look up into the man's face. He looked back at her through piercing blue eyes, something like a smile on his face. He was young, by the standards of most, in his thirties perhaps, and unmistakably good-looking. His clothes were of high quality, and the ring he wore on his smallest finger was probably worth more than all the land on which the sprawling abbey was located. This, though, made her even more suspicious. "What would a young, handsome, man, want with a bride from a convent?" she thought,"There must be something wrong with him"

He said nothing, but just stared at her.

"Adeline, this is Etienne L'Eveque, you'll be married later today," the Abbess declared, looking from one to the other nervously, "We shall return in twenty minutes." The last words she said, looking at the man directly.

"She's skinny," he said to the Abbess, "Like a goat."

"She'll fatten up soon enough, I imagine," the abbess said. She took Sister Mathilde by the arm and hurried her from the room, leaving the two of them alone.

"Good morning, Etienne," Adeline said politely, though inside she was seething. Like a goat?

"You will address me as 'sir' at all times, girl," he said, "Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," she said, looking at the floor, a cold chill running up her spine, "My name is..."

"I don't care what your name is, girl," he said, "Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"How long did she say?"

"Twenty minutes, sir," she replied. This, she knew, was highly irregular. This Etienne L'Eveque must have a certain amount of wealth and influence to have bought twenty minutes alone with his young bride to be. He stared at her like he was an artist and she a particularly reticent block of marble.

"No sense in buying a mare I haven't ridden first," he said, scowling at her.

He moved towards her. She flinched involuntarily, panic rising in her stomach. He seemed to take offense to this, throwing his hat, a splendidly embroidered tricorn, to the ground revealing a full head of blond hair tied back at the nape of his neck. He stepped forward and seized her by the throat. Adeline's brown eyes went wide with fear as he bore down on her windpipe, his other hand seizing the kerchief from her head and throwing it to the floor. She tried to scream, but his hand was squeezing the air and the life out of her. Her hands flailed futilely in the air, she tried vainly to shake her head 'no,' but it was all of no use. He pulled the pins from her hair, and it tumbled, black and tangled, down her back. He loosed her throat, and she sat back, feeling very exposed, before him. The lack of breath made her gasp for air, her modest bosom heaving prettily as she took in breath after grateful breath.

"Get up!" he barked. She obliged him numbly, rising to her feet. He unhooked the buttons on her dress expertly, like a man who had done it all his life. He made short work of her underclothes, too, and soon all pretense of modesty lay in a pile on the floor, and she stood naked before him as she had before her looking glass not an hour beforehand.

"Stay there," he ordered, and took a step back. The blue gaze raked over her from head to toe, lingering on her breasts and the place where her legs met, "You're skinny. I didn't pay good money all these years for the sisters to starve you!"

She mumbled an apology, but he either didn't hear it or chose to ignore it.

"Is your pussy always like that or do you shave it when the sisters aren't looking?" he asked, his eyes resting on her sex.

"What?" she spluttered, her indignation finally getting the better of fear, "What kind of question is that?"

She was soon to regret her hasty outburst as he darted, swift as a cat, behind her, and landed a painful smack on her bottom. Adeline, who had grown up being disciplined by the good Sisters of Humility, had grown a bit of a thick skin on her backside. Her and Hélène's escapades had landed them in hot water on more than one occasion, and her bottom had been routinely struck with everything from willow switches to a crucifix by one impulsive nun. The viciousness, though, with which this Etienne struck her, surprised her, and she nearly let loose a high-pitched yelp.

"You will answer my question, girl," he said, "Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," she said quietly, "No, sir, I don't shave... there."

"You don't shave what, girl?"

"I don't shave my... area."

He smacked her again, this time on her left buttock. She flinched. "What don't you shave, girl?" he asked, the anger rising in his voice.

"My pussy!" she exclaimed, "I don't shave my pussy!"

"Good girl," he said. He raised his hand as though to slap her again, but instead cupped her bare bottom and squeezed. He clicked his tongue behind his teeth, "No, no, this won't do at all. Entirely too skinny! Your mother had tits out to there, where are yours?"

"My... my mother?"

"Why the hell do you think I bought you, girl? Your mother was the best ride a boy ever had, I wanted one for myself!" he said, "What kind of work do you do here?"

"Gardening, sir," she replied.

"That explains that," he said, "I'll tell this sisters to put you on spinning for the next year, and to feed you. Put your clothes on."

"What?" she asked breathlessly.

"Put your clothes on and go back to your cell, girl. I don't want you, yet."

"No, sir!" she protested, the fear of being left in the convent to waste away far greater than that of what he would do to her once they were wed, "Please, don't leave me here! I'll do anything!"

The hint of a smile passed over his features, "You, who have never known a man, stand naked before me having been groped and slapped and ordered about, and yet you plead with me to take you? Most girls in your situation would be sobbing, begging to go back to the convent!"

"Please, sir," she said, hanging her head, "I'm not like the other girls."

"And that, Adeline," he said, using her name for the first time, "Is why you can count on me to be back one year from today. I can only hope I like what I see a little more than I do now."

"Yes, sir," she said, picking up her clothes. She got her shift over her head, but he stepped forward and seized her by the neck again.

"Did you ever play with the other girls?" he asked.

"What?" she asked, looking at him in confusion.

His grip tightened on the back of her neck and his other hand slid, sneakily, up the inside of her thigh. She tensed involuntarily as his fingertips reached her outer lips.

"You would do well to start answering my questions straightaway, girl," he said. Suddenly, he seized her clitoris between two of his fingers and twisted viciously. Tears sprang to her eyes as he let her go, but the ache as the pain receded from her most secret of places left her with a longing that she did not fully understand.

"Yes, sir," she rasped, the tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Ahh, good girl!" he said quietly.

"My friend Hélène and I used to share a room," she said, "We would..."

"What would you do?" he asked, "Would you touch each other here?" His fingertips brushed the tender nub which he had just so viciously tortured. She gasped, and felt a familiar rush of moisture to the passageway beneath it, "Did she ever put her tongue here?" he asked, caressing her again, "Did she ever put her finger here?" he asked, his hand moving southward and tracing the delicate opening of her body.

"No sir, she never put her finger there. We had... we had to remain virgins..."

"Good girl," he breathed again, his breath tickling her ear. His hand remained between her legs for a little more, but he soon withdrew it and wiped it on an expensive-looking handkerchief which he produced from his pocket. "Now get dressed. I will inform the abbess of our little arrangement."

"Yes, sir," she mumbled, hastily throwing her dress over her head and tugging on her underclothes. Without a looking-glass, she had trouble pinning her hair up properly, but did the best she could and hoped that the kerchief would disguise what had just transpired. She sat down in the chair again, staring at the floor and trying to wrap her head around what had just happened. She was uncomfortably wet down there, and she knew if the sisters could guess at what had occurred she'd be beaten senseless. They would not, she imagined, be terribly angry about him not taking her straightaway. After all, so long as she was within the convent's walls, her benefactor would continue to grace the sisters with generous contributions. Two of the other girls who had been sent there by wealthy gentlemen were pampered and treated like princesses rather than convent orphans, all at the behest of the old men who expected something like affection from their young brides. Another, per her benefactor's instructions, was treated harshly, so to prepare her for the realities of married life. Adeline had never been treated one way or another, and so had imagined that she would be wed to a man too old to care. Certainly nothing in the way the sisters had treated her had prepared her for the treatment she had just received!

She sat silently through the conversation Etienne had with the abbess, who nodded silently at everything he had to say. Finally, she said, "It will be as you have asked."

He nodded his approval, gave a slight bow to Adeline, and was gone as quickly as he had come.