The next morning, my mother appeared in much better spirits than I had seen her in a long time.
At breakfast, she began to discuss the visit of the day prior:
'A very interesting young gentleman. Certainly, he will have a bright future in the family trade. But… But, I say, this is only the beginning of our search. We shall see the other suitors I have found… And I believe, by casting a wider net, I might find even more without too much difficulty.'
'Mother,' I said, trying to remain calm, 'I will not endure another visit of that sort. I will not listen to any more stories about artichokes, or buttons.'
My mother stood up.
'Eloise! You have no consideration for our situation… Your situation, if I have to be frank.'
'Mother, I may have a better grasp on things than you do,' I said.
'Do you… You… You, ungrateful – '
I didn't allow her to continue.
'I do,' I said, now getting quite animated myself. 'We are penniless. I am penniless. You are the pet of that vulgar storeman, and you may be happy to spend your last years wearing his unsightly clothes, and eating his inedible slop, and enduring his dull conversation. Not me. You have put yourself out for sale, and this is the price you fetched. Not me!'
My mother's eyes filled with tears, but she didn't want to give me the satisfaction of showing how much I had hurt her with my words, for there's nothing as painful as the truth, so she raised her voice further:
'You will do as you're told! I will not bear the weight of an idle child. I have borne enough, haven't I? I have done enough for you. I have done so much that I am now ruined. All for you!'
I looked at her incredulously, for her words too had wounded me. Then, I retorted that she had done only what she wanted. I had never asked her to spread her legs for any man. That, she had done of her own volition.
'I will not stay here and listen to my child insult me,' she said. 'If you want to live here, you will have to do as I order. Otherwise, you're free to leave.'
And, having said that, she left the room and went out for her usual walk.
She returned that afternoon to find me in the store, sitting at my usual place, behind the desk next to Mr. Martin.
'I see you have made your decision,' she said, seething with poorly hidden rage.
I do confess that the fact that I had not left amounted to a confession, for I had not found the courage to leave my mother's house.
Mr. Martin looked at my mother, not knowing anything about our fight, but he thought better than to ask the cause of that tone.
She then informed me that she would line up more suitors to consider over the next few days.
'I believe we won't spend much more time together, Eloise,' Mr. Martin said, once my mother left the store. 'This saddens me.'
I shrugged my shoulders. Then, still quite enraged with my mother, I asked Hubert:
'Then, we'd better not waste any time. I believe I want to admire once again the rolls from Toulouse.'
'The rolls… Oh, yes!' he exclaimed, quite cheered up. 'Cosette is not here though.'
'So what? I have fingers too. Come on!' I replied, and I marched towards the back room.
Hubert followed me with hurried little steps.
It was nearly night, and walking into the back room, poorly lit at midday, was like diving into black ink.
I found my way through the shelves, heading for the pile of rolls that had been used as thalamus.
Behind me, Hubert, quite confused by the prospect of an unexpected fuck, stumbled and banged against every surface around.
'You don't know your own store, Mr. Martin?' I joked.
I then turned and groped at the dark, looking for the mass of his body.
'Here you are… Now the trousers… I see you're already prepared… Good, good.'
He then whispered:
'I need some help…'
'Then turn around, you fat pig!' I exclaimed, rejoicing for being able to say what I had wanted to say.
I then assessed his buttocks, finding their contour, looking for a way to the sensitive areas. I then spread them. They were fat and a little hairy. The skin dangled sadly despite the generous filling.
I licked two fingers and swiftly inserted them into Mr. Martin's anus.
'Mercy!' he cried.
I laughed at this request:
'You'd better prepare yourself: I'm not your faithful Cosette…'
'Well, what do you… Aaah!' he cried, when I added a third finger.
'See, you bad piggy, this is how you should be treated,' I said, moving my hand back and forth with some energy. 'Tell me you like it.'
'I don't know that I do,' he whined.
I searched his front with my free hand.
'But see how hard you are already…' I said. 'I believe you do like it… You like it so much that you want another one.'
Mr. Martin's gave a loud cry:
'Aaah! My ass!'
'This is what happens to a woman when her family marries her to the first passer-by. He takes her and does what he wishes to her most tender parts… But look how you like it… Look at how hard you are.'
Mr. Martin sobbed and moaned, torn between the surprise of being so ill treated and the pleasure that I could still manage to extract from him.
'Now, Mr. Martin,' I said. 'Let me give you some time to catch your breath, what do you say?'
I extracted my fingers from his behind, while still stroking his penis.
'You need some time, eh?' I chirped in his ear. 'Is this better?'
The rhythmic noise of his cock in my hand filled the air. My free hand caressed his ass for a moment.
'Sssh… Shhh… It's all passed, eh?' I whispered.
'Yes. Oh, thank you,' he said, panting a little.
I then spanked his ass quite hard.
'Aaaah!' he cried.
'Then,' I continued, now raising my voice, 'the husband is displeased because supper isn't ready, or because the house is not tidy, and he disciplines the wife.'
I hit him again. Harder.
'Aw, aw!' he complained. 'My poor bottom.'
'The poor wife doesn't complain. She shouldn't. She can't! So then, the husband' I continued, now quite filled with rage, 'seeing how meek she is, how she allows him everything, finds that quite attractive… Men have urges… So…' I said, leaving the conclusion hanging in the air.
'Please… Not too many!' Mr. Martin begged.
But his pleas were in vain, and I filled his anus with my index, my middle, my ring, and my pinky finger.
'There! And you, like a good wife does, will take it!'
I now moved my fingers further in.
'And a good wife learns to like it. And indeed, you do! I believe you have never been harder in your life.'
'I haven't… Oh, no! This is too much!' he said.
'I believe I could now ask you everything I want,' I said. 'I could ask you to lick my dirty ass.'
'Yes, yes…' he said. 'Just don't stop!'
'Or drink my stinky piss.'
'Ah… How nice this is!'
'I could even ask you for money.'
'Anything, Eloise, anything! Just keep fucking me…'
I had the full length of my four fingers into Mr. Martin's anal cavity, and I now moved them with great liberty, as if I was a man, and he my compliant wife.
I was also stroking his dick with great force, so that I could feel his testicles dangling back and forth and hitting my hand each time.
'Come on, little slut, come for me,' I incited him.
'I'm coming… I'm coming…' he exclaimed. 'Aaaah! Fuck!'
His whole body twisted and twitched, and Mr. Martin ejaculate with three long squirts.
'Aaah! – Yes – Oh, God!' he exclaimed.
Then, I listen to him panting, recovering from the great orgasm. Finally, he complained:
'I believe I have soiled the rolls of Italian silk, Eloise.'
At that moment, we heard the door behind us bang open, and the yellow light of a lamp searched the room.
'Hubert!'
It was my mother's voice.
'And Eloise! You little whore!' she screamed.
'Poupette!' Mr. Martin pleaded.
'Poupette my arse!' was the reply.
My mother came upon us like a lion, or some other wild animal.
'I was showing Eloise the rolls from Toulouse,' Hubert pleaded.
'You filthy animal! You old faggot! You rotten corpse!' she cried at him, hitting him each time. 'I take your little cock each night, and this is how you repay me?'
She then turned around, adding more obscenities, now addressed towards me, but I was already out of the room, and I could only catch broken words from her tirade:
'You bastard… You bitch… Never been born…'
Well! The decision that I had not been able to make had been made for me: I was to leave and seek independence.
Down with marriage! I was to be free.
I knew where Mr. Martin kept the spare change in a drawer of the desk. This I took without any remorse.
Once again, I began to walk only with the dress I was wearing. This time, not knowing where to go, and where to seek shelter.
I began to walk along the street, vouching never to see my mother again.
A vow I believe that was reciprocated by my mother.
And we have both kept our promise, so far, for we have never met again.
I spent that night on a bench, wondering what I should do, and by morning, I had formed a plan, for which I had just enough money in my pocket.
As my mother had informed me that my older brother, Armand, was making an illustrious career in the capital, I decided to make my way to Paris.