Guy de Maupassant: The Colonel's Nieces

Florentine's room was ready and waiting for her. The most delicate and exquisite furniture had been brought together there.

“Oh, you are so sweet to me,” said the young bride with conviction. They were both sitting in her new apartments, after a most carefully planned dinner, and Florentine poured a cup of tea for her husband of several hours.

“Oh, no, my dearly beloved, it is you who are sweet for me. You have decided to make me the caretaker of your life, and I can hardly wait to take possession of you.” While George said that, he was wondering how it would go, because he had spent considerable energy with his wet daydream in the carriage that afternoon.

“I don't understand. Aren't you already my lord and master?”

“Not quite yet, my dearest. I have merely acquired the right to become it. For the time being, that's all.” He thought, “Could it be possible that this gorgeous child is really as innocent as she pretends to be? Did her aunt give her any instructions at all? Would Madame Briquart really have flubbed the opportunity to occupy her imagination with the forbidden fruit?” It was unbelievable. As a mater of fact, it was too good to be true. He was wedded to an honest-to-goodness innocent virgin, while he had thought that those things had gone out with the turn of the century. However, he had to be very careful.

“Do you believe, my dearest little one, that what happened this morning in church was the ultimate joy of love?”

The young wife blushed, lowering her head. “I don't know,” she murmured softly.

Superb! Delicious! George felt triumphant. Excitement stirred his loins again at the mere thought of plucking this innocent flower.

“It really was not, you know,” he began. “I will teach you the beauty of the love between husband and wife. I want you to be at ease with me. Your corset, for instance. I am sure that it must be quite uncomfortable. Do you need your maid to help you take it off?”

“Oh no!”

“Very well, then… give her the rest of the evening off, and we can do it together.”

Mariette was dismissed, and George carefully bolted the door behind her.

Florentine had already gone into her dressing room, following her husband's advice.

George, hidden by the curtain, watched his wife. His blood was reaching the boiling point at the sight of those marvelous white arms and shoulders. Florentine turned halfway around, loosing her hair which cascaded down her shoulders, covering her naked breasts only partially, leaving the large rosy tips in full view. George could feel his temples throb. He could no longer contain himself, and, when his bride was standing there, clad only in her chemise, he rushed out from behind the curtain and seized her roughly in his arms.

“Oh George… you frightened me!” the young girl cried out, blushing terribly and feeling extremely confused.

Deep down inside she had imagined that the life of a married woman contained some sort of mystery, but she had no idea that it contained this sort of childish peek-a-boo. But both her aunt and her father-confessor had firmly implanted in her mind that one day she was to become a wife, and she would have to submit to the desires of her husband. Oh, well, she had drawn a husband who liked to play games.

George was very pale as he took her in his arms, covering her with passionate kisses on her lips, shoulders and breasts while she desperately tried to hide them from sight.

Suddenly his burning fingers slid down the narrow of her back, each hand firmly grabbing hold of one gorgeous buttock. He was writhing with lust and pressed his dry, passionate mouth upon her lush, rosy lips.

In spite of his wife's efforts to regain her composure, George succeeded in grabbing her thighs and knees. Two white velvet bands held up the silk stockings which covered her well-formed, slender legs. He took them off, and rolled down the thin material which covered her legs. He lifted her feet and pulled off the stockings. She began to feel like a trapped bird, and-emitting little cries of fright-ran to the other side of the room.

George looked at her with adoration, his blood drumming wildly through his perspiring body, his eyes brilliant with all the fire and lust, pushed to the extreme.

“Florentine, my little darling,” he said, purring. “Why are you so afraid of me? Don't flee! Am I not your husband? Why do you refuse to be my wife?”

“You are not mad at me? I… I don't understand…”

“Very well. Come here, and I will explain to you the difference between a young girl and a married woman.”

“But… I don't dare… not like this… I am not dressed,” answered his young wife, looking down upon her lack of clothing.

“My dear child, what are you worrying about? The fact that you are barely dressed? But that is the most beautiful costume there is! It is especially reserved for the celebration of love between husband and wife. Look, I'll put you at ease and throw off whatever could interfere with the burning desire of our love.”

And, adding action to his words, George promptly took off his clothes and walked over to his wife, wearing only his drawers.

“Come here,” he said, putting his arm around her waist and leading her to a sofa. “Close to me… yes… that's it. Now then, I am going to make you understand what my love demands of yours. Because you do love me, you will love me, won't you, my pretty one, my adorable, little wife? You must have read in the Holy Bible that man and woman form the same flesh, the same blood, when they are united by the holy sacrament of marriage?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Very well. And what do you think must be done to achieve this? Let me tell you: by letting your husband take possession of the treasures that are locked inside you. No, not in this charming breast which I am fondling and not in the beautiful buttocks I was caressing. But here, in the deepest part of your being, whose entrance I am covering now with my hand… right here, where I am putting my finger.”

George had slung his left arm around his wife's shoulders, holding her half-lying down next to him, and his right hand was free to explore Florentine's hitherto hidden treasure. The poor girl was beginning to feel the effects, and her hips, quite involuntarily, began a slow rotating motion.

“To make you completely mine, I shall have to get into you.”

“But how could that be possible?”

“Don't you know that a man is in certain respects different from a woman?”

“Well, yes, women have longer hair, they wear dresses and-up here-to feed the baby they… ah…” The poor girl blushed and stammered.

George, however, driven by his passion, became relentless. His finger pushed a little bit deeper, making his young wife squirm and sigh. “But down here, do you know that we differ there, too?”

“No.”

“Give me your hand… feel it, and look at it.”

George uncovered his instrument of penetration which was quite erect and throbbing wildly. “God has made this and put it at the man's disposal so that he may exercise his domination.” He pronounced this sentence very unctuously, meanwhile forcing his wife's tiny hand around his stiff tool, taking her by the wrist and moving her hand up and down very slowly.

“You, my dearest one, are the quiver for this arrow. It will victoriously enter you and deposit its seed upon the fruit of your womb. You know that last line, don't you?”

Florentine nodded silently, but it was obvious that she had not yet completely grasped the meaning of her husband's words.

“It will also initiate you in all the pleasures of love. Now you know everything there is to it. I ask you again, do you want to be my wife? Do you want to fulfill the promise you made me this morning?”