My mother arrived at the house in the late afternoon.
I presently asked to speak with her, and, without waiting for an answer, I dragged her into a little study so that I could talk to her privately.
'What a day,' she exclaimed, sitting down on a chair. 'Will you help me with these?' she added handing me various boxes wrapped in papers of various garish colours. 'I've found this new hatter. It was simply impossible not to buy everything in the shop.'
She could finally indulge in all the pleasures that had been forbidden to her since the downfall of my father. Once again, she no longer needed to worry about anything: her life was now one big party. The only injunction was to enjoy herself. This, she now did with great relish, having suddenly found new friends just as eager as she was to seek the newest and most fashionable dressmakers, to watch the latest play, and to let their husbands and lovers' money fly from their purses like birds off a cage.
'Mother, I have to speak to you,' I said.
She appeared distracted, still seeing pretty little hats, still hearing the garrulous chat, still tasting the delicacies served at the cafes.
'It's a matter of great importance,' I explained, looking gravely and demanding her full attention.
'What is it?' she asked, still smiling distractedly.
Having never had to provide for anyone, not even myself, I didn't fully appreciate how financial worries will eventually dent even the strongest armour. Even the most principled moralist will soon compromise when faced with the prospect of utter ruin. In my innocence, however, I believed myself ready to endure a life of hardship, and I expected my mother to be equally superior to Mr LeClair's baseness and equally prepared to choose poverty over the company of that man.
I therefore spoke frankly, without any artifice, so unrefusable I thought my argument. I told my mother all I had seen, how Mr LeClair and his familiars had vexed that young maid. I then told my mother about the criminal origin of Mr LeClair's fortune, and how he had cruelly used his wife.
'We cannot possibly tolerate life under the same roof as this knave,' I concluded.
During my speech, I saw my mother's expression change from one of mirth to a worried one. She then averted her eyes and stood up.
'What silliness!' she said.
'I have seen it with my own eyes!' I replied, pressing her on.
She made an attempt at laughter, but this came out as an impatient huff:
'It's probably not as bad as you've imagined.'
'Mother, this is intolerable! How can you stand it?'
She then turned towards me and said:
'So what? While us women can be constant and faithful, a man will always have his own distractions. It's only natural, and it's time you learned to accept it.'
I pressed her on:
'But this is more than a distraction. This is pure perfidy.'
She guffawed again dismissively but said nothing.
'And you have heard of how he murdered a man for his own gain.'
My mother was silent for a moment. A battle was raging inside her. Then, the battle was over, and she said:
'How do you think the big fortunes of the wealthy men you have met were made and maintained?'
'Surely, not murder!' I said.
My mother then replied:
'Do you think that paying people a sou a day when you're netting a louis is not murder? Do you think that entering a barter you are sure will mean starvation for another man is not murder? Look at all those dirty men and women lining the streets in the morning walking to the factories! Their labour is netting a fortune to their employers, while they can barely dress themselves with its proceeds. This is how we all live! Eloise, you are indeed still a child!'
'Do you then excuse how Father was treated, then?' I said, wanting to make my point, even at the risk of being cruel. 'He too lost it all to unequal deals.'
'Yes!' she exclaimed. This almost surprised her, for she stopped a moment, but then she added: 'I do. This is how the world works. Once, we were on one side of that trade: we lived in a grand house, while people served us and tended to our fields. Your father never complained about the way other people were treated so that he could live handsomely. He never once suggested he should be more generous towards our servants; he never once proposed to share the great profit he made with the people he entered a barter with.'
'Mother…' I began, hoping I could still convince her to abandon Auguste.
'It is undignified to speak like this: you should not question the good fortune we have found. It's not done.'
I opened my mouth to say more, but she raised a hand and said:
'Eloise, I wish you didn't abuse my patience any longer. I now have to change for supper, and I beg you to do the same. Compose yourself and don't mention any of this anymore.'
She collected her packages and left me.
I was left confused and saddened. I told myself over and over how intolerable this situation was, how I could not stand it, how I would leave that very minute, like my brothers had done, to live on my own, but, when the gong rang for supper, I proceeded to the dining room.
My mother arrived at the same time and, meeting me, whispered with an angry tone:
'Not a word. Not to me. Not to anyone. Understood?'
Then, she entered the room with a great smile on her face, walking up to Auguste, who was awaiting us, and kissing him on the cheek.
'Ah, my friend! What a wonderful day I had,' she said.
Mr LeClair, with his usual calm, said he was pleased and asked her to tell him how she had passed it. He must have been aware of my intention to tell my mother what I had seen, but he showed no anxiety over it. During dinner, he even asked me how my day had been, and if I had plans for the coming week.
I, on my part, often pretended I hadn't heard his question to then reply with short, curt sentences, wanting this man to know how much I despised him.
'I wonder what the matter is with you, Eloise,' said at one point my mother.
I knew my mother well enough to know she was very cross with me, but that she was keeping a jovial tone on account of our host, not wanting to show him anything was the matter.
At this question, Mr LeClair regarded me with some curiosity, almost challenging me to say what was troubling me.
I confess I lowered my gaze and simply shook my head, knowing the consequences of making a scene.
'My dear,' Mr LeClair said then addressing my mother, 'I have been thinking about our dear Eloise.'
My mother turned towards him with a smile, but with worry in her eyes:
'Yes?'
'Have you made plans for her?' he asked her.
She replied:
'I was hoping to present her to society. She can then meet some suitable gentlemen…'
'No, no, my dear,' he interjected. 'This is not the country. A lady is supposed to have an education, and I understand Eloise has had but some patchy notions imparted by some private tutor.'
'I believe this to be true,' my mother replied cautiously.
'You see, there is a noble institution where all the fashionable young ladies from good families go to complete their education. I believe this would greatly benefit her.'
'It wasn't really my intention…' my mother began.
Mr LeClair then waved his hand:
'Then forget I said anything.'
He then changed the subject, as if of no importance.
As soon as dinner was over, I excused myself and left. I went into my room and began thinking. Was it really worth risking everything, abandoning the wealth I had been offered for my principles? I could see my mother had no inclination to challenge Auguste, and I now excused her, now regarded her love of luxury as shameful. One minute, I thought of leaving at the very first light of the day, to only relent at the prospect of packing my trunk. I was full of indignant rage, one instant, and then devoid of any resolve, the next.
I spent that evening lost in these considerations, when I was shaken from this state from some noise coming from outside my room.
I opened the door. The corridor was dark. Nobody was around.
I was about to walk back inside and close the door, when I heard that noise once more. It was a sharp clap whose origin I couldn't fathom.
I stood there, waiting. Sure enough, the noise repeated itself.
I could tell that it was coming from the room Mr LeClair and my mother shared.
I walked towards the room, when I heard the noise once more, this time followed by the sound of a human voice.
I was curious to know what was passing and knelt down, trying to spy from the keyhole.
Inside, the room was lit by a few candles. I could therefore see with some clarity.
Mr LeClair was pacing the room, fully dressed. He came in and out of view as he did this.
'I am not in the habit of being contradicted,' he was saying.
He spoke, as usual, in his cold and calm manner.
'Yes, yes,' came the voice of my mother.
I searched for her, spying through the keyhole.
She was positioned on the floor, on her arms and knees. Her nightgown was pulled up to the waist, so that her buttocks were exposed.
Then, I heard the clapping noise once again.
My mother's winced, arching her back, and gave a low whimper.
I then saw that Mr LeClair was holding a long, thin cane in his hand and had whipped my mother with it.
'I beg your forgiveness, my friend,' mother said again.
Whack! He whipped her again.
'Ah!' she cried once more.
I saw that her buttocks were now very red from the punishment he had been imparting her. With every hit, they twisted and shook, revealing the fur that ran between them.
'Hats, dresses, nights at the theatre, new books, the full run of the house… I said no to nothing,' he said.
Whack!
'I beg you…' she repeated.
'For it is my house,' he continued, as if he couldn't hear her.
Whack!
'Yes, yes, my friend. I thank you for your hospitality,' she said.
Mr LeClair paused, having find a new means of attack:
'You should probably return to your little apartment.'
He cherished saying this very much. I could hear it in his voice.
My mother looked up to him:
'I implore you. I am nothing but grateful. Haven't I been very obedient? Haven't I given you satisfaction?'
'Yes. I suppose,' he said.
Whack!
'But I will not tolerate disobedience!' he said.
'Aw, aw!' she whined. 'I can learn… I'll be better…'
Whack!
'Then show me!' he ordered.
'I will show you. I will be good,' she repeated.
He considered this statement, regarding her bare bottom with some interest.
'Very well,' he said. 'We shall see.'
'Thank you, Auguste, thank you.'
Mr LeClair was now walking around my mother, regarding her with some appreciation, like a cat prowling around a wounded dove.
I knew their conversation had been about me, and the furthering of my education. I also knew that, by sending me to this school, Mr LeClair was banishing me from the house. Grin had been right: I should have tried to make peace with Mr LeClair. Ot I should have better prepared my attack of my mother's new friend.
Now, this man stood behind my mother, who was still on all fours, and unbuttoned his trousers. His penis, which had caused such fright to the maid, was still flaccid, but, even in this state, was of imposing proportions.
Mr LeClair ran two fingers between my mother's butt cheeks, through the short fur, from the clit and along the labia, all the way to the small button of the asshole.
'You are already wet,' he remarked.
'You know how much I desire you: you always give me so much pleasure, Auguste,' she said, turning to regarding him.
In her eyes was such tenderness and sorry, which were met with the usual inscrutable coldness.
'Will you please penetrate me, my friend,' she demanded. 'I have been waiting all day for it!'
Mr LeClair watched her ass pensively, still caressing her pelage.
'You do are desirable…' he said.
Whack! He slapped her vulva with his hand.
'Look at you, all how and wet…' he said.
There was a joking note in his voice. He was now satisfied with her compliance.
'My friend, peace!' she said with the same jovial tone, understanding all was forgiven now that she had agreed to his terms.
'Is this what you want?' he asked her, beginning to gently slap his dick on her ass.
'Mmh mmh' she nodded.
'Yeah?' he asked, holding his dick in his hand, slapping it gently and watching it as it was getting hard. 'What would you like me to do with it, eh?'
My mother reached behind with a hand, taking hold of that big tool.
'You can do what you want with it. You know it well. Just don't wait any longer. Pick a hole, Auguste.'
She then guided Mr LeClair's cock into her pussy.
'I still struggle to make it fit…' she laughed.
'Let me,' he said.
Mr LeClair then gave a great push with his hips, forcing himself into her.
'Aaaah!' she cried. She then paused, getting used to the size. Then, after a moment, she added: 'This is fine. So fine… Mmmh…'
He then began moving back and forth, in and out of her.
My mother's nightgown was now hanging loose on her torso. I could see her small breasts moving back and forth with each movement.
'Why don't you… punish me a bit more,' she suggested. 'I like you to show me how to behave.'
Whack! A great slap on the ass.
'Like this?' he asked diverted by the request.
'Aaah!' she cried breathlessly. 'Yes… Like that…'
Whack! Another slap.
'You're making me come!' she whined.
He took hold of her ass, parting the reddened cheeks, staring at the slightly open asshole, admiring how his dick was stretching her pussy, how it moved in and out of it.
'Grab me, grab me!' she said. Then, she began to moan loudly with each push: 'Ah… Ah… Ah… Ahhh!'
'I believe you're coming now!' he exclaimed.
'Yeeees!' she screamed, shaking all over.
Mr LeClair laughed at this sight, then said.
'Let's not make you pregnant with another little brat.'
He then took out his penis and began masturbating.
'Let me help you, my friend,' my mother added.
Then she turned around and, having positioned herself on her knees, wrapped both hands around his shaft and started stroking it.
'Will you come for me?' she asked, looking up to him with much devotion. 'Am I making you come, eh?'
Mr LeClair began grunting under that treatment.
'That's it. That's it… Let me make you come,' she insisted. 'You like it fast?'
Then, he groaned and ejaculated onto her. His semen jumped on her face, her hair, her chest.
'Yes, my darling: come all over me me!' she said, enjoying that proof of his contentment.
The next day, over breakfast, my mother announced that I was going to be enrolled in the school Auguste had mentioned. Furthermore, to ensure continuity with my education, I would be to board at this institution.
I could have left there and then. Nothing was stopping me, but I was still so fearful of the world and still so dependent on my mother for my safety that I accepted without any protestation. After all, I could see that Mr LeClair's influence on my mother was such that any objection would have been useless.