Marcelline joined me many other times in my nightly outings, but she was not the only one. Finding her company dull and tiresome, I also recruited other girls from the institute. In doing so, I discarded her right after I had lured her into a life where morals had no value, and where the only imperative was to enjoy oneself, by dangling my friendship before her eyes.
She quickly took to that life and often complained when I preferred the company of other girls to hers. I know not what it became of her, but I suspect she either married to a man, most likely a wealthy one, or she ended up a lost woman. In the first case, she would have found a single man unequal to the tastes she acquired under my guidance, and I believe the union to have been a shambolic one, or a very dissatisfying one. In the second case, I can say I'm sorry to have unlocked those desires and shown her that life, for I know the shame that is cast upon women of that profession, although useful and in high demand, and I wish she has found the happiness she sought.
Recruiting other girls to join me in my nights with Bernard and his friends proved quite easy once I began sharing my compensation with them. In fact, they all seemed eager to accompany me.
'To be paid for that?' one would ask.
'I would pay to get fucked,' another would say.
'And every night you meet a different man? Even better!' would be another comment at my proposal.
I therefore discovered a two new great truths: one, that I was not the only young girl who enjoyed sex, and not of the tame kind at that, but that, contrary to popular notion, women are as ready to sin with their bodies as men are. Second, that money is a powerful incentive, and that moral objections are usually much weaker than they're professed to be, when put to the test.
'Eloise,' a girl would ask one morning, 'do you think I can come tonight?'
'I've already promised someone else. How's tomorrow?' I would reply.
'Sure. What do you think they'll do to me?' the girl would ask excitedly.
'I don't know.'
'Maybe it's better not to know:' the girl would muse, 'it can be so exciting to be surprised… and to be asked something strange and frightening, don't you think?'
Similar exchanges would happen on a daily basis, so that I began keeping a little diary, similar to a carnet used during a ball, to keep track of the upcoming engagements, and, such was the demand, often I had to bring more than one girl with me to ensure everybody could have a turn.
I never had to look for a naïve girl like Marcelline and dupe her into following me, even though she ended up liking those activities very much. No dissimulation was required. All I had to do was to tell those bored girls that I could offer some money and some fun.
I have to say here that, even though most girls would have followed me without the incentive of money, I found that sharing the profits of my depravity lessened my guilt.
It was quite amusing to see those girls from well-to-do families engaged in such debauchery with such lowly men. Their parents would have been horrified.
Women from more modest families would never have dreamt of such divertissements.
Let this be a lesson to wealthy families who raise their children with rich foods, pretty clothes, and the notion that they're entitled to enjoy whatever they can get their hands on. Let this be a lesson to such families who entrust their children to these expensive institutions that will only fill the students' heads with the notion of their superiority, while fencing them off and keeping them away from the rest of society.
In all this, the two people who didn't join me in my visits to Bernard's house were Juliette and Odile.
The first I disliked intensely. She was also a prefect and, in my eyes, a spy for the headmistress. Therefore, I took great care that she didn't hear of such outings. I made all the girls swear they would not talk about it to a living soul, especially Juliette, and they seemed to respect this vow.
As a consequence, Juliette was left to patrol the school, writing up silly infractions, while missing out on all the real action that was going on under her nose.
I knew she was still keeping a close watch on Odile, looking for a more serious offence than a squabble between girls to have her expelled once and forever, and that, knowing how close I had been to Odile, she was also watching me secretly, hoping to find me at fault.
As far as Odile went, she had separated herself from Bernard of her own free will and wanted nothing to do with him any longer.
This saddened me, for I still liked her very much.
'I'm sure we can find an arrangement, if you want to come back…' I would tell her.
'No, no. I'm done with all that,' she replied without any malice. Then, she would add: 'Furthermore, Eloise, I believe you are handling that trade very well yourself. That doesn't bother me: I assure you, for I have found another lucrative activity that happens to also please me more.'
She said this in a mysterious tone, and I didn't ask her to explain her meaning, until, one day, she said:
'Eloise, I believe you have put aside some money from Bernard. How would you like to spend some?'
I said I didn't particularly care one way or another.
So, Odile told me that she wanted to show me what she had been involved in, but that it would cost me.
Her mercenary attitude, which seemed to trump all friendship, amazed me, but I said I was glad for her invitation and was happy to consent to it.
'How much?' I asked.
The number was worth more than a week of work with Bernard.
I wondered whether to negotiate, or to even ask for a reduction of that sum in the name of our friendship. I also conjectured that, since she had profited from my activities at Bernard's house for a long time, she was in my debt and should not have asked for any compensation. But I thought better not to say any of this. In fact, the very act of treating me like all the other girls had the immediate effect of cooling my feelings towards her.
Therefore, I agreed on that amount.
'Then, come with the money on Saturday afternoon to the top of the stairs that lead to the basement. I don't have to tell you to exercise caution not to be followed.'
Autumn had now come and gone, and that season of fading hope had turned into Winter. The days were short and grey and cold. The heat from the fireplaces and the stoves barely kept the large rooms warm, so that pupils and teachers alike wore heavy clothes and often huddled together, talking in hushed tones. The gayety that had pervaded our cohort at the beginning of the academic year had faded. The unvaried routine and the mounting quantity of homework meant that the mood of any room you entered in was subdued, if not morose.
This made me the more desperate to enjoy my nightly outings. Bernard's small apartment was always warm, and the wine and the jokes kept the company excited and never dull.
I somehow didn't expect to find a fraction of that energy within the school walls. So, I arrived at the top of the stairs that led to the basement that Saturday bored and eager to dispense with whatever Odile had planned quickly and efficiently. I even wondered why I had agreed to part with my hard-earned money.
A girl in my class walked past me and said:
'Hello, Eloise. Odile told me you were coming.'
I was expecting my old friend to usher me in, and I was a little put out by being invited in by someone who had not shared as much as Odile and I had, up to that point.
'Very well,' I said and followed the girl.
We walked down the stairs and into the basement.
This was a large maze of rooms, mostly used for storage. Some of the washing for the institute was done here, as well as some of the carpentry work, but it was generally poorly frequented and not many people came down here.
The girl led me through various rooms with pieces of furniture covered with large sheets that had lost their whiteness. The grey light of the day was pouring in from small windows nestled towards the ceiling. In the air was the smell of dust, old wood, mould, and decay.
Our steps echoed on the tiled floor until we stopped before a little door.
'Come, come,' the girl, who had been guiding me with the surety of someone who had walked this path many times before, said.
She opened the door, and I noticed that this led to another set of stairs that burrowed into the earth and took you down to another level, lower than the one we occupied.
The stairs were narrow and dark, except for a dull brightness that came from below. From the same point also came the sound of laughter and animated chatting.
We walked carefully until we reached the end of the stairs.
Here, a large space opened. It had a low, vaulted ceiling. Many candles lay on chairs, on various tables, and even on the floor, casting their orange light onto a little scene that emerged from the general darkness.
I gazed around, trying to get used to the dim light. Here and there, I recognised various girls from our year, and, in the middle of the space, I saw Odile, sitting on a chair, holding a large bowl of fruit. From the bowl, she was picking some treats that she was feeding to Marc Antoine.
Our gardener was sitting on the floor, eating from Odile's hand, smiling all around.
'So many pretty girls,' he was saying.
Odile replied:
'Isn't this what you like?'
'Yes, yes,' Marc Antoine replied.
All around the two, were some other girls who giggled at these words and, in turn, said they also liked his company.
I had never heard our gardener speak. In fact, I thought him to be a mute. Furthermore, I had never known him to be comfortable in the company of anyone but, as I had only learned recently, in the arms of Mlle Clery.
'Would you like more sweats? Maybe a glass of wine?' a girl asked, watching him with lustful eyes.
'No, no,' he said.
'So,' Odile said with a mischievous tone, 'what would you like to do?'
The gardener laughed widely, looking around at the room.
By now, all the girls, who would have been at least eight or ten, had come around the group and were listening intently.
'I want to play with the pretty girls,' Marc Antoine said.
I was startled to hear him speak in such a coherent manner, even if he used quite simple language. I had been made to believe him to be a poor unfortunate of limited intellectual faculties. Even in his amorous encounter with our sweet teacher, that I had spied upon, he had seemed to retain some sort of simple innocence.
Not so, now.
Marc Antoine now shot up and began running around the room, trying to pinch the girls.
These scattered away, laughing and screaming with delight.
'Which one will I get?' the gardener called.
'Me! – Me!' the girls answered.
My guide had by now abandoned me and had joined the game.
I watched on for a moment. So, this was Odile's new activity: she organised the orgies for the rich girls of the institute.
'Oh! He's got me!' someone cried in the dark.
'Pinch him, pinch him!' someone echoed.
'I'll get you now, little one,' came the reply of the gardener.
I picked a glass of wine from a table. I drank what was left in it.
It was later explained to me that Marc Antoine, far from being the simpleton that Mlle Renouf and Mlle Clery believed him to be, was quite articulate in his communication. He had a simple intelligence that had never been developed for lack of formal learning.
He had played at being a slow-witted man in need of assistance to obtain shelter from the headmistress, who wouldn't otherwise have allowed a man to live at the institute, and to elicit Mlle Clery's kindness and inflame her desire to nurture a grateful unfortunate on his nightly visits.
'Ah,' came the voice of Marc Antoine, 'I'm overpowered! They're taking my clothes away!'
The girls laughed. Pieces of bodies, slices of excited faces and widened eyes emerged from the darkness as the fluttering light of the candles caught them.
The air was warm, while the rest of the school was cold. The wine was also adding to the sudden heat that I was feeling, and, for a moment, I forget how cross I was starting to feel towards Odile for having excluded me from that activity until then.
A new thought had also crossed my mind, namely that the friendship that Odile had professed towards me was as inconsistent as the one I had offered to Marcelline. Maybe, my old friend had faked those warm feelings towards me with the sole purpose of enticing me to join her evenings with Bernard.
But these doubts quickly vanished. What did it matter if I had been duped. After all, I had duped in turn.
Now, I was in that room. Warm, finally. Hearing the joyful sound of my fellow students laughing.
I reached for another glass of wine, which I swallowed eagerly, and I waded into the penumbra.
'Here comes another one!' Marc Antoine cried, as he saw me approach.
The gardener was lying on the floor, naked.
He had an impressive figure: he was naturally tall, broad shouldered, with strong thigs and long arms. His physique had been strengthened by the years of labour at the institute, so that each part of his body was enlarged and quite pleasing to the eye.
He was being held down by the girls, in various states of dishabille. One girl was holding down his right foot, while another was holding the left, so that his legs were pried apart. Two girls were holding down his right arm, while the left was underneath the bottom of a girl, whose face showed me plainly that she had no control over the man's hand, which was instead exploring her private nether regions.
I was now keen to know what was of his genitalia. These I found to be held hostage by another girl who was fellating the man with great animation.
Even in the low light of the candles, I could see now that Marc Antoine had a member of unusual size, as flourished and of attractive proportions as the rest of his body.
The girl who was controlling it was now licking it in all its length, now putting as much as she could down her throat.
There were more girls around, and these were busy observing the scene, awaiting their turn, or pleasing each other.
Little by little, each girl began to lose items of clothing. That spectacle, merely in virtue of its beauty, was inflamed, without touching, the senses of all the students.
'It's my turn!' someone cried.
'Me first…' came another voice.
'Let me hurry her up,' said another.
The last girl who had spoken then lifted the skirt of the girl who was crouched on Marc Antoine's virility.
This turned towards her, and, abandoning for a moment that activity that she had devoted herself to, cried:
'Hey, what's the idea?'
This gave a chance to another girl to pounce on that great cock and put it in between her lips.
'She's already quite wet!' the girl who had lifted the skirt cried.
'What are you doing?' the girl who had lost possession of the gardener's member asked, with a tone, however, that didn't signal too great an annoyance.
Now, those two girls engaged in a new position. The one behind began licking the pussy of the one in front.
'I bet you're ripe for coming!' the licker said, halting the licking for a moment.
She then began to massage the girl's private parts with her hand. Then, she pried the butt cheeks apart and immersed herself once more.
The girl being pleased was now silent. In fact, no words came from her mouth any longer, just a litany of sighs and cries, for, in fact, she was close to orgasming.
Meanwhile, the other girls were laughing, inciting now this, now that group.
'Look, how she comes!'
'Is she wet?'
'I bet she tastes nice. Let me try!'
'I'm taking the pussy!'
'I don't mind licking the ass, then…'
All the while, the girl being licked was crying loudly for being so fondled:
'Aaah! Mmmpf! Oooh! Ah – ah – ah – aaaaah!'
As this scene was taking place, Marc Antoine had disentangled himself and had groped one of the girls by her ass.
The girl was crouched on all fours, while, from behind, he too was licking her genitals, in the imitation of the first group.
But he quickly grew tired of this activity. The gardener then stood up and began to reach for her opening with his cock.
'Not so fast!' someone cried trying to stop him.
'Get off!' Marc Antoine cried, giving her a little push.
The girl got up and tried to stop the penetration once more, but the gardener was already in, as announced by a loud exclamation by the girl being penetrated.
'Come on, Marc Antoine! Fuck me… I can't wait much longer,' the scorned girl pleaded.
Marc Antoine, then, reached with his hands between her thighs.
'Like this? Good?'
The girl, feeling his thick fingers right up her most sensitive parts, cried:
'You beast!'
But her remonstration was short lived for she began squatting up and down on his hand, giving loud moans of pleasure, while the gardener went in and out with big pushed into the girl in front of him.
This was also enjoying the way the gardener used her, as I heard her now cry for mercy now beg him not to stop, and even to fuck her harder.
I then decided to join the group.
First, I positioned myself behind Marc Antoine, and I began caressing his chest. I took great care not to bother him in that activity that gave him great pleasure, but to add to it.
Then, I reached with my hand behind him, massaging between his thighs, his anus, the perineum, and even his testicles.
All the while, I was whispering words of excitement in his ear:
'Fuck her hard. See how she likes it? Your cock is so big, and she's so small…'
The gardener laughed at these words, while some of the other girls commented on my presence:
'Look at Odile, she's as big a whore as I had imagined her to be.'
Someone imitated me and came behind me, as I had come behind the gardener. Now, I felt delicate hands cupping my breasts, caressing and toying with my nipples. I turned back and my lips met the warm mouth of another girl. Suddenly, I felt fingers exploring my vulva, searching for my clitoris.
I was now warm all over, and I cared not for how pleasure was being given to me.
I allowed everything.
I didn't know how, but I soon found myself lying down, with my back on the floor. My legs were being parted, and I felt someone's tongue reaching for my warmest parts. I had no time to thank this person, for someone squatted on top of me, and I, in turn, began licking a nicely trimmed pussy, tight and warm.
Unknown hands were also fondling my breasts, and I could hear voice around me:
'She has great tits!'
'I had always wanted to touch them.'
'Feel how wet she is: my hand is drenched!'
'Let me taste it. Yum!'
Someone gave my nipples a squeeze, which shot a wave of pain through me, and made me arch my back and inflamed me even further.
'Look at how she wags her tail!'
Groups were being created and uncoupled quickly without any direction. The room was full of the smell of bodies and the sounds of girls sighing and crying and swearing and asking for more.
'I always wanted to try…' someone said from a corner.
'What… oooh!' came the pleased reply.
'What about two?' said a voice from somewhere else.
'Whose ass is this?' came from another group.
Then, I noticed that Marc Antoine was standing up, leaving a girl behind. The former was still looking for pleasure, while the latter was clearly spent.
I disentangled myself from the not I had been woven into, and I reached for the gardener.
'Now! Take me!' I ordered, not willing to give anyone else the chance to take him from me.
I lay on my back and opened my legs.
The man couched himself between my thighs.
'Wait…' I said. 'Try this.'
So, I tilted my pelvis, offering him not my vagina, but my anus.
'This?' he asked.
Impatiently, I reached for his cock. I spat on my hand and stroked it once, twice, then, judging it hard enough and well-lubricated, I brought it closer to the cleft of my cheeks.
Marc Antoine then, grinning at me, pushed it in.
In this position, the passage was so tight and painful, but I had wished it to be.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and hoisted myself up, so that I could facilitate a full penetration.
'Good fucking heavens!' I yelped, when I felt I had reached the base.
The tightness of the hold was such that the man in my arms could not move with ease, but I told him to fuck me as hard as he could.
He obeyed, and, by now, a few of the girls were sitting around us, admiring the scene.
'He's fucking her in the ass!'
'Jesus, I could barely take it in my cunt…'
'It just takes practice.'
'She must have a lot to take that thing in.'
'But look at how happy he looks.'
I was filled with a great excitement, and I dug my fingernails into the gardener's back.
He was now grunting with each movement, and I was yelping in a high-pitched, breathless voice.
One of the girls slapped Marc Antoine on the ass, which made him give a great push.
'You fuck!' I cried, and I made him roll onto his back, so that I was now on top of him.
In this position, I could control the intensity of the penetration, moving up and down on him, letting his dick slide into my ass. I then brought two fingers to my clit and titillated it enough to bring me to a great orgasm that had been mounting inside me but that had eluded me so far.
I then stood up, letting his cock slide out of me, and, overwhelmed by the great emotion that Marc Antoine had provoked, I was shocked to discover that I was pissing on his chest, unable to hold in that liquid that was gushing forth with a great jet.
The girls laughed at this sight, and Marc Antoine, trying to protect his face from this jet, also was filled with mirth, commenting that the rain from the heavens is good to make all things grow.
'He's coming too!' someone cried, and a few of the girls dived onto his crotch, fighting to get a taste of his pleasure.
'All the pretty girls are hungry now!' he laughed. 'This one can have it,' he then said, reaching with his hand and getting a hold of a girl's head, which she pushed onto his groin.
That girl emerged after a minute, and another girl began kissing her, wanting to share on that feast.
The other girls were licking Marc Antoine's now flaccid manhood, hoping to get a taste of either my asshole or his semen.
Someone then kissed me on the mouth and fondled my breasts. I felt a finger up my ass and two more up my pussy.
Then, I lay on the floor, listening to some of the girls who kept pleasing each other, and allowing some strangers' hands to caress me, as the curiosity took them.
Someone brought Marc Antoine a glass of wine. Someone offered him more sweets. The man drank, ate, and thanked everybody.
I felt great contentment.
It didn't matter that I now believed I had lost Odile as a friend. In fact, it seemed that all the good acquaintance I had ever met had eventually disappeared. What remained was the pleasure I could obtain through my body, and this could come from anybody. I then believed that no affection was required.
'Money well spent,' I thought, for I had now learned a valuable lesson that no real friendship could be found among these girls. Their talents, as far as I was concerned, lay elsewhere.
There was a girl next to me. I asked her if she needed anything, and she said she was too tired, but another came closer and said she was interested.
We then began to fondle each other, trying to squeeze the last drops of pleasure for the day, when a booming voice came from the door that led to the upstairs:
'What is this obscenity?'
It was the voice of Mlle Renouf.