The Naked and Monique
by Unknown


INTRODUCTION 

The historical arc of the past century clearly indicates that there has been 
a massive thrust in the direction of a sort of decadent populism, a populism 
which was contained in the class structures of Europe but which has burst 
through the strata of containment in America - with the help of such mass 
cultural innovations as films, paperback books and television - and flows 
through every dimension of the society which, at this moment, is the most 
savagely lonely, the most expressively rampant and the most overpoweringly 
industrial on earth. There are more books published in America than anywhere 
on earth; there are more pounds of the flesh of paper disseminated between 
spines or bindings - on a given day - than anywhere in the solar system. The 
circulatory capacity of American books - at least within its own borders - 
is staggering. The circulatory capacity of American movies may well have to 
do with changing the perceptual capacity of the entire earth. The tonnage is 
immense, the consumption enormous-and this includes everything from erotic 
literature to poetry. Creation is no sooner presented than, with hardly a 
reflection, it is imitated, parodied, thrown into a mixmaster of media, 
turned into song, photographed, shot up on big screens where its leading 
characters pass through a period of hero-worshiping idolatry - and all this 
takes place from the throat to the gut, so to speak, a rapid digestion, 
skipping the by-this-time obvious heart, and certainly having nothing to do 
with the damaged bones of memory. 

What has happened? Cries of fascist go up and down the streets of the world, 
cries of millennial apocalypse, of atomic doom. The mind, souped-up both by 
what sets its gears in motion from the outside, and by what drives it on 
through what it takes in;- the mind, with all due respect to the 
psychologists, has broken down. Over and over again. Sometimes, in many, 
each day; each day a sort of tense and nervous breaking down of the good old 
tissue of the past, the onion-skinning without hope of enlightenment, this 
absurd peergynting. 

I am one of those who believes that the Second World War was a central event 
in this breakdown - even for those who were not yet born to witness it. 
Behind the Nazi ideals sputtered out of mouths bent on self-destruction, an 
actual conquest of the world lay in potentiality. That world, I insist, is 
not merely the one visible to the cartographical eye. Ask any man alive, and 
even the dead ones - perhaps first of all the dead ones - and he will let 
you know, after a certain time, of an awful legacy he carries, something 
passed down through the psychological and industrial bloodstream, some 
terror that passes all the couches in the world, some nightmare he cannot 
dislodge though all his dreams are exhausted. 

I am not particularly referring to the genocidal aspect of the Nazis. The 
murder of the Jews is only a part of the total plan. Rather, I mean to point 
to a condition of continual and unabated disassociation, a sort of cosmic 
schizophrenia running between transcendentalism and realism - but a romantic 
realism (as that seems to be the term) divorced from the 'feel' of earth, a 
world which excites us to the depression that is itself a lid upon an older 
earth whose spirits we no longer care to dwell among. In such a world, 
seeing will be believing; a certain mutated objectivity will be the rule; a 
sort of applied photography of light will serve as the instrument of 
transcendence, and a just-feel-able cool and comfortable environment will be 
set up, with inlaid distances. Isolation shall not be the preface to 
solitude, and solitude to organic creation. Rather isolation shall be a form 
whose existence implies that one is being mastered. Needless to say, in 
1968, we are already well into this 'machine,' this sweatless and fabricated 
'body' of man. 

Some of the signposts of such a world are presented, unconsciously perhaps, 
by The Naked and Monique. On the surface, of course, this is only another 
erotic book, written by a Belgian after the last war. It has a 'translated 
quality' that pulls it away from the Anglo-Saxon, gives it a certain 
heightened feel, referring as it does to that old-time, prewar, culturally 
'free' world of Paris. 

But what is interesting here is that the book is raced through, by means of 
a rapid series of episodes, pastiches less of style than they are of sexual 
action. I say interesting because the historical time of the book is the 
entire period of the Second World War. But where the descent of women in 
other erotic literature I have encountered, usually has taken the form of a 
series of at least somewhat stylized and delineated encounters, here our 
heroine, beginning and ending as a prostitute, telling her story in 
retrospect, seems ever concerned with getting the business of the story 
finished with as quickly as possible - with little time for the 
fribble-frabbles of pleasure. 

Now one could simply let it go as a weak book, and have done with it. But 
scanning erotic literature from the wartime period of the Nazis, one finds 
an interesting parallel: there is hardly any work referent to that time - in 
the genre of the erotic - which does not have this stepped-up quality, as 
though what had been cut loose by Nazism was so erotically terrifying that, 
from that point on, everyone in the world, doctors, lawyers, artists, 
businessmen, prostitutes and the rest of the dramatis personae of this 
ever-powerful and at the same time ever-diminishing earth, could no longer 
accurately be viewed except in relation to his being in the act of "taking a 
powder." When Nazism touched the "volkish" roots with its lunacy, when it 
shook to the foundations the very idea of an inner community of beings 
called people, it did so with some unbearable diamond-pointed drill aimed at 
the sex and cash-registering brain of Western man stuck on himself and 
creating this endless rapidity which flows through our currents from 
everything and every being encountered. This is not to say that a recycling 
of Nazism is the fate of Western man. The very explosion of all the 
verbalized and visualized taboos will not render man exhausted fodder for 
some militant surrender coming forward with a gun in its hand. This very 
whacky, deadly and yet censorably uncensored America is the clearest 
indication that the machine is being fought at every turn of its own fierce 
propulsions. The future, of course, looms brightly only when there is an 
acceptance of the fact of the business of the matter of our bodies. Let that 
be the mask which permits the operation of that other, and intertwined, and 
intricate aspect of our being to continue in the dark light of its creative 
stance. It is to be mean, in order not to be mean. The prize continues as 
tomorrow's anguished day is (yes, still) certain to rise. 

Rudolph Conway, Ph.D. Los Angeles, April 1968 

 CHAPTER I The Seeds Of Ecstasy 

My name is Monique. I am 35 and a daughter of the Belgian aristocracy. My 
father was Ambassador of H.R.H. King Albert of Belgium to the former Italian 
court and my grandfather was a military attach to King Leopold II. 

However, since this can be of little interest to you, I shall relate my 
story. But don't be alarmed; this shall be no ordinary story, but will 
initiate some of you into my sexual experiences and by and by you will learn 
how I lost my virginity together with my special little ways of making love 
... 

My first memories are of a beautiful mansion, full of life and movement, 
with numerous rooms and servants which to my young eyes all seemed to be 
exclusively attending to my well-being. 

A little later everything suddenly changed. We moved to a small apartment; 
gone were the retinue of lackeys, servants and chauffeurs, and we were left 
with only one maid. 

My father was more often in Brussels than at Bruges. It seemed he was always 
on business; I afterwards found out that this business consisted of poker 
sessions at the "Cercle Noble" and conscientiously doing all the Brussels 
nightclubs: the "Merry Grill," "Savoy," "Pavilion Marcel," etc ... 

While there, his chief business was the pleasure of downing champagne and 
having fun and games with scantily-clad chorus beauties. 

The few times we saw him, he was always charming, good-humored and full of 
attention for my mother and myself. The household was joyful as in the old 
days. But these exceptional qualities were not sufficient to keep up a 
family and lead a life of pleasure on the side. To sum it all up, his "Don 
Juan" character ruined us. 

At that time I was about 13 and had been at the Convent of the Holy 
Childhood three years, together with the daughters of Bruges' nobility. 

I will now tell you of my first adventure with Eliane Van X, daughter of a 
lieutenant-colonel, who was there with me. 

A lot of stupid things have been written about childhood friendships. One 
thing is certain: when schoolmate relations deepen to strong affection, nine 
times out of ten, handshakes and innocent kisses are followed by less 
innocuous and unsullied caresses. 

Eliane pleased me right from the start. She had a luscious figure, wide eyes 
and a very attractive little mouth; an angelic smile lit up her face. But to 
me her voice was a special attraction. For so young a girl, she had a deep 
musical voice whose caressing tones sent me into heavenly ecstasy. 

At 13 she initiated me into sensual delight. 

At the age of 11, I knew nothing of sex. True, I used to laugh stupidly with 
the others at thinly veiled jokes, but I did not understand them. I washed 
my hips and my most intimate regions with the same indifference as my hands 
and ears. 

Then came Eliane. Right away I loved her, I adored her. She attracted and 
conquered me. Everything about her seemed radiant and even a little unreal 
and captivating. I used to kiss the photo she had given me with the same 
ardor as my rosary and holy medals. Young children are often irresistibly 
attracted to someone evil. Eliane at 13 was already thoroughly vicious and 
perverted. 

It is due to her that I developed so young this need for sexual debauchery 
and rapturous voluptuousness which maturity and circumstances have made me 
blossom out into what I am today: a perfect fucking prostitute. 

 CHAPTER II The Initiation 

One day Eliane asked me to come to her place for tea. Naturally, her family 
being of equally good standing with ours, my mother was delighted with the 
invitation. 

I, accompanied by my nurse, went to the lovely mansion at Noordzandstraat 
where my little schoolmate lived. As usual she was charming and with her 
lovely, deep, caressing voice she invited me to view her sumptuous home. My 
nurse in the meantime, being acquainted with her lady in waiting, left us to 
err alone in the vast estate. 

My little friend showed me beautiful antique furniture, paintings by the 
masters, the garden with its marvelous water fountain and goldfish, etc ... 

Then she said: 

"Now I'll show you my room." 

It was a real jewel: a low bed, white muslin, the really luxurious nest of a 
spoiled child. 

Softly she guided me to her dressing table where an upholstered armchair 
seemed to be inviting me. 

"Please sit down." 

I did so with a smile and looked at myself earnestly in the mirror. 

Slowly, from behind me, two arms enfolded my shoulders. 

"You're lovely, Monique." 

"Do you really think so?" 

"Yes, so beautiful!" Her grave sensuous voice seemed to emphasize every 
syllable. "I feel like kissing you." 

With a fondling, precise gesture, I found myself being tilted slightly 
backwards and my friend's lips glued on mine. 

It was a long time ago, over 20 years, yet I still remember that kiss. Since 
then, how many lips, men's and women's, have crushed my mouth? I don't even 
know, I could not count them, but that kiss I can feel even now. 

Don't forget I was 11, perfectly ignorant and innocent, and nobody had ever 
touched my lips. I seemed to feel the smoothness of velvet, I felt a soft 
caress, so soft, yet at the same time a stiffening, a contortion of my whole 
being. Provoking, insinuating, her mouth stuck longingly to mine, would not 
leave me. I felt myself sinking into a sweet oblivion and ecstasy which was 
not quite sensual but in any case frightening. 

Was it childish modesty or fear of the unknown? Abruptly I escaped from her 
embrace. 

"What is the matter? Are you angry?" 

Blushing, nearly trembling I mumbled: 

"No, no ... but ... " 

"Now, now, don't get excited. Haven't you ever been kissed before?" 

"Yes, but never like this!" 

"Ah, don't you like my way?" 

"Oh, no! I did not say I didn't like it, but you must understand, it's so 
strange, so new!" 

Eliane smiled strangely, then insinuating, feline and perverse, she came 
back towards me. 

Tenderly and captivatingly she wrapped herself around me; close to my ear, 
her warm, honeyed voice whispered: 

"Monique, don't you want us to love each other?" 

Love! I adored her, this sweet and lovely creature. Only loving did not mean 
the same thing to both of us. To me, loving meant seeing her, being near, 
and hearing her bewitching voice; taking her hand and stroking her golden 
hair. To her it meant something else. I could sense it immediately. 

"Then you don't love me, Monique?" 

With all the ardent feeling of my youthful heart I pressed myself harder 
against her and said in one breath: 

"I do, I do love you, Eliane ... " 

Despite herself, surprised by the warmth of my answer, she hesitated a 
moment, then suddenly she again pressed her lips to mine. Her right hand 
wound around my waist, her left took my chin, then slowly crept down. She 
gently inserted it in my little child's dress and softly caressed my bosom, 
where two little mounds foreshadowed my future blossoming breasts. It acted 
like an electric shock; I stiffened. Mechanically my lips opened to let out 
a sigh and I felt my little friend's tongue searching and exploring my 
half-opened mouth. 

I nearly collapsed. 

I felt the hand holding my waist take a stronger grip and push me towards 
the low bed. I fell on it backwards. 

I heard a tremulous whisper saying: 

"Let yourself go!" 

Suddenly, searching fingers knowingly crept along my legs, then to my 
thighs, finally reaching my last defenses. They lowered my small panties and 
gently massaged my most prized possession, until then virgin and intact. I 
felt a violent sensation of perfect anguish, naturally not comparable with 
the spasm of an adult, being too young to really feel sexual delectation. 
Still the pleasure was extreme. I lay quietly on the bed, dazed. 

Eliane, her eyes shining and cheeks burning, her face afire with excitement, 
murmured: 

"Like it?" 

I could not answer. I smiled and nodded yes. Eliane waited no longer. She 
lifted her skirt, dropped her panties, and shamelessly, cynically showed me 
her little belly and lower down her fair pubic hairs. 

I looked on with astonished eyes, surprised it was not like mine, completely 
hairless. 

She took my hand and said with a hoarse voice: "Touch me." 

I obeyed, and with an inexpert touch began a gentle rubbing. 

"Harder, like I did to you." 

I caressed quicker. It did not take long. Abruptly she stiffened, let out a 
soft moan and my roving fingers were sticky. 

She took away my hand, put on her panties, let down her dress and, 
wheedling, took me in her arms: 

"You won't speak of this at home?" 

"Oh ... no." 

"Good, in that case, be discreet and you will learn lots more about the art 
of love." 

Puzzled, I asked: 

"Who taught you all this?" 

"I'll tell you, but mum's the word!" 

"I promise." 

"Jose de Kerbergen." 

"Jose?" 

"Yes, about two years ago she was the first to teach me to do what we have 
just done." And she burst out laughing. 

"Now you do it to others?" 

"Certainly. Jose, Susy, Yvonne and Annie have all had a good crack at it." 

I could not get over it. All my little schoolmates, all small girls like 
myself, kissing each other on the mouth, rubbing their growing breasts and 
caressing their hairless virgin cunts! 

I really could not get over it! 

Eliane, who had now completely recovered her composure, was calm and serene. 
In fact, quite a little lady. 

"Darling, let's go; tea is ready." 

I could see she was used to these sexual fiddlings, as at tea time she had a 
good feed. It did not seem to have affected her appetite at all! 

* * * 

From that day onward, I, who had been so pure and ignorant till then, began 
to lead a different life and dreamed much about sex. 

Eliane had not wasted her efforts. A furious frenzy of sexual discovery got 
hold of me. It was my turn now, on every possible occasion, to slide my 
hands under my little companions' skirts. 

I grabbed every possible opportunity. During classes, pretending to look 
studious, apparently engrossed in my history book, I ogled my nearest 
schoolmate, and with a tiny smile, whispered to her: 

"Your dress is torn." 

Nine times out of ten it worked. 

"Where?" 

She would then slightly lift her skirt. 

"There." 

Without beating about the bush, I lifted it further, uncovering her pink 
thighs. I feverishly rested my hand on the choice morsel. Often they were at 
first astonished, more often frankly curious. 

I no longer hesitated. My wandering hand slid along that soft creamy expanse 
as high as possible. 

If there was any resistance (very rare), the skirt was firmly snapped back. 
I did not then insist; but more often there was none. Then I slid one or two 
fingers under the panties and at last reached that warm little nest, virgin 
and generally untouched and free from any fluff. 

I had won again! During the next break, my new friend and I would go to the 
lavatory, where we could compare each other's unformed breasts and fondly 
caress and rub those little gems, our future temples of indescribable 
pleasures ; our little virgin pussies! 

We used to call those little games "playing rub and wet." 

 CHAPTER III Discovery Of Men 

I was about 12. Obviously my knowledge of the other sex and especially of 
his physique was very limited. I had seen drawings on the blackboard and on 
exercise books of a manly attribute which was certainly very interesting, as 
all the older girls used to talk and laugh about it. 

But I had never actually seen one. Then one day it happened. I saw, and how! 

I was at the window of my room. This window opened onto a big garden 
belonging to our neighbors. Unconsciously, I watched men at work there. All 
of a sudden one of them, a man about 30, left his work and went towards a 
bush nearly under my window without seeing me. There he undid his trousers 
to satisfy a natural desire and I saw the "thing." 

It seemed to be extraordinary and my eyes never left it for a moment. When 
he had finished, the man shook it and closed his fly. 

I stood still, thinking. So it was about "that" they made so much fuss? 
Frankly, I was disappointed. I did not really know what I had expected to 
see but certainly not what I had just seen. 

In my childish modesty I did not speak of my vision to my schoolmates, not 
even Eliane. 

My second vision of the male attribute was much more interesting. By a sort 
of natural instinct (I have changed since), I did not like boys. I greatly 
considered them noisy, turbulent, ill-mannered, and they rather frightened 
me. All except one. He was a boy about my age, son of a local policeman, 
living next door. I used to see him going to school quietly and nearly 
always alone. He looked rather effeminate, pale with beautiful blue eyes. He 
was the only one to whom I occasionally smiled. 

One day I saw him walking a little in front of me. As he walked he was 
reading a little book which seemed to be of great interest. He went towards 
the station, instead of home. Why did I follow him? I don't know. Anyway, I 
did so at a respectful distance. He was so absorbed by his reading that he 
did not look behind. 

The station used to be surrounded by woods. He reached the bushes and chose 
a grassy and cool spot. It was summer. Hidden behind thick shrubs three to 
four yards away I could see him perfectly. 

He lay down on the fresh grass and went on with his reading. I remember that 
his face, usually so pale, colored. His eyes shone and I particularly 
watched his hand. 

Ah, that hand! 

First hesitantly, then more and more vigorously, it rubbed his belly; then 
all of a sudden he could not resist any longer. 

He threw away the book, opened his short trousers and for the second time I 
saw the "thing." 

But what a difference from the first time! It was much smaller, pink and 
white. His hand by now was busy on the naked "thing." As it worked, the 
"thing" became longer and thicker. Faster and faster he went, then suddenly 
came the final spasm. For the first time I had seen an erection and its 
normal conclusion. 

Trembling, my head on fire, I put my hand between my thighs. 

So it was, one summer's day in Bruges, a boy and a girl, a few paces from 
each other, accomplished the parody and the prelude of the sexual act, the 
immortal act which rules the world. 

This time I did not keep this vision to myself but as soon as possible told 
Eliane, then all the others. 

I was the center of attention! 

"Tell us! Tell us again, what happened?" 

"Did you see everything?" 

"What was it like, when it came?" 

"Tell us ... tell us ... " 

"While he was doing it, were you rubbing yourself too?" 

I can assure you, we were all warm between the legs in our panties. Many of 
us-I was not the last-went to the lavatory to cool our excitement with 
nimble fingers. 

A few days after this, I met the boy who had shown me so well, unknowingly, 
how boys get their pleasure alone. 

He smiled and greeted me: "Hello Monique!" If we had not been so near my 
house I could not have resisted the temptation to throw myself around his 
neck, to unbutton his fly and to grab his penis, which I had seen so well 
and was dying to handle. 

* * * 

Then my father died: a stupid car accident, but fatal. 

I loved my father; in fact, I think he was the only one I have ever loved in 
my whole life. He had every vice and a few good points. He was a charming 
and attractive fellow, a real ladies' man; seductive, unfaithful, and a 
brazen liar. Strictly between us, I believe I particularly loved him for his 
defects. In any case I am certain he passed every one of them on to me. 

But I am afraid this was his only legacy. Before his death our standard of 
living had been getting steadily worse; now we were on the brink of poverty! 
Our old way of living did not help; my mother, still believing in her noble 
prerogatives, seriously considered them sufficient to carry on in the same 
fashion as before. 

She merely forgot the main fact, the only real tangible thing, the one 
concrete reality which is stronger than all nobilities, sects, prejudices 
and traditions: money! 

With that outlook on the world we were well on the way to starvation. 

Then it happened: war was declared. 

At Bruges, as everywhere else in Belgium, we began to be lulled by the 
"phony war." This time, we thought, and really began to believe it, they'll 
leave us alone. 

Then came May 10th, 1940. 

My mother, at her wit's end as always, decided we should go to France to the 
Count and Countess F-'s residence in Touraine. This she considered to be a 
place of safety. 

Although I was only 15, I tried to talk her out of it, pointing out the long 
dismal columns of refugees all also fleeing towards France. There was 
nothing doing. Like" all muddleheaded people when they get hold of a screwy 
idea, she was completely and irrevocably determined to carry it out. 

So it was, the next day we crowded into a small van with another noble 
family, bound for France and Touraine! 

 CHAPTER IV In The Shelter 

On May 14th at dusk we were near a small farm next to the Blekker mill at 
Saint-Ides-bald. 

The amount of traffic in this deserted hole seemed as dense as the center of 
Brussels or Paris. 

One endless stream of cars, vans, carts, buses and many other types of 
prehistoric-looking vehicles crawled along the road. 

Once again, as they had been doing for the last three days, a squadron of 
Messerschmidts dropped a few bombs. 

There was a terrific mess! Screams and cries of horror pierced the air; then 
a flash, a shock and oblivion. 

When I came to I found myself lying on the straw in a barn. 

My first vision was the homely face of a peasant woman: 

"Well, now, how do you feel?" 

"So-so ... " 

"You are all right, you know. It's only the shock. You were brought here by 
local people." 

Things began to come back. 

"What about my mother?" 

"I don't know anything about her, but don't worry, I'll find out." 

She shouted: 

"Jef! Jef!" 

He came running in, a solid looking son of the soil, with a red smiling face 
despite the war and all it meant to him. 

"You don't know where her mother is, do you?" 

"She left for Furness." 

"Gone!" I cried. 

"Yes." 

"How is she?" 

"Perfectly all right. When we found you, you were lying alone unconscious on 
the road; so I picked you up," he added smiling. 

"I want to join her." 

"You're too weak!" 

"No, I assure you I can get along perfectly well; I want to go!" 

I thanked both the kind peasants and a little later I found myself taking a 
shortcut through the fields, which they had showed me. 

I did not get very far. 

I had been walking for about five minutes, when: 

"Halte la!" 

A soldier, his finger on the trigger, his bayonet pointing uncomfortably in 
my direction, abruptly jumped out from nowhere. 

Surprised at seeing only a young girl, he said more gently: 

"Where are you going?" 

"To Furness." 

"What are you going to do there?" 

"I want to find my mother." 

"I am sorry, it's not possible!" 

"What do you mean, not possible?" 

"I have my orders. Furness is a military zone. I can't let you through!" 

"But I have to get through!" 

"Sorry, you'll have to go back." 

From a neighboring hut another figure came out. He was a sergeant. The 
sentry snapped to attention. 

"Sergeant, this girl insists she must get to Furness." 

The subaltern looked me over suspiciously, as if catching spies was one of 
their few distractions. 

Distant but polite, he began: 

"What are you going to do at Furness?" 

I explained. 

"Quite, quite. I know all about that. There are thousands of you looking for 
so-called parents. I'll go and see the lieutenant. As for now, take her away 
and guard her." 

We had hardly started off when we heard the now familiar sound of 
approaching fighters. 

"Run for shelter!" shouted the sergeant. 

We ran towards a hangar, but he, very sure of himself, stood outside the 
door, peering at the sky. The next moment found us crouching down while 
bullets spattered round. It lasted but a moment and through it all, the 
sergeant stood, in all his glory, staring at the enemy. 

I shall never understand how they managed to miss him. 

We got out. 

"Take her to the lieutenant for questioning." 

"Yes, sir." 

And there I was, on my way to Furness as I had intended, but under escort. 

We got to the farm which was being used as the headquarters of the 2d 
Grenadiers. As it was dinner time, the smell of good cooking reminded me I 
was starving. 

My guard handed me over to his two comrades: 

"Watch her carefully, she may be a spy! I'll get the officer in charge." 

As well as being young, I was naturally optimistic and I was frightfully 
hungry. "I have not eaten since this morning." I smiled as graciously as 
possible at my jailers. 

They immediately understood me. I heard a strong Belgian accent: 

"If you're hungry, you'll eat!" 

He handed over his tincan after having filled it to the brim. 

"Thank you." 

"Drink!" the other said, laughing as he passed over his mug full of beer. 

After all I had been through I ate with a will. I have never tasted anything 
better. I began to feel mellow and thought as my self-confidence came back 
that this episode was not so unpleasant after all. 

For the first time in my life I was alone, free to do as I pleased, although 
I suppose I was considered a spy. My taste for adventure gave me confidence. 
I would soon be with mother at Furness, and this would have been a 
delightful interlude. 

A sergeant stalked into the room. 

"Bad news, I am afraid. The Jerries have captured Brussels. Liege is still 
holding out but things are really going to the dogs." 

There was dead silence. I am no patriot but it gave me a jolt to realize 
that they were already in Brussels. 

My former guard came in. 

"Follow me." 

We got to the shelter. At last I saw him. He stood in the center of the room 
under a harsh light which picked out every detail of his well-cut 
lieutenant's uniform. In a jiffy I took in his whole anatomy. He was a fine, 
upstanding young man. I immediately fell for him. 

But he seemed scarcely interested. 

"Sit down, Miss. Your name?" 

"Monique van P-." 

"Any relation to the Comte van P- of Bruges?" 

"I am his daughter." 

"Oh!" 

He unbent a little. 

"How old are you?" 

"Fifteen." 

"What were you doing in the front lines?" 

"I lost my mother during the raid near the Blekker mill and I was trying to 
get to her at Furness." 

"Naturally you and your mother wanted to get over the border?" 

"Yes." 

"I am sorry, I have to do my duty." 

He got hold of my traveling bag which contained everything I had on me and 
spilled it out on the desk. A few letters, small change, powder, lipstick 
etc ... 

He checked the addresses on the envelopes, carefully compared me with two or 
three photos from my wallet, then put it all back. 

In a couple of strides he was near me. He passed his hands lightly over my 
back. Oh! that first contact with a man's hands! I thought I should faint. 

The feel of their touch was soft and thrilling. I quivered with pleasure. 
But oh, he was already searching my breasts, quickly, much too quickly. 
Barely a fraction of a second I felt his hand on the tiny tips of my young 
and as yet unformed breasts. Too soon his hands worked down my belly, 
further down along my thighs, then gently squeezing my buttocks. 

Oh, you poor insensitive fighter of a war already lost ten times over, why 
couldn't you understand how I longed for you to continue your probings, how 
I loved the feel of your hands on my summer dress! 

Suddenly he stopped. 

"Take your shoes off, please ... " 

I obeyed, carefully lifting up my skirt as high as possible. If he had 
wanted to, he could have got an eyeful: my buttocks, my naked thighs, my 
pink panties and even more interesting juicy details. 

He did not take the slightest notice. It was clear he was thinking of 
something else. 

He carefully scrutinized my shoes, then handed them back to me. 

"Thank you, you can go now. Allow me to apologize and to offer a little 
friendly advice: get to Furness, as soon as possible, then straight on to 
France. Brussels has fallen and I fear that by tomorrow we ourselves shall 
be completely surrounded." 

"Thank you." 

He saluted. Then it dawned on me, this man was a real soldier, his sole 
concern was for the dangers and cares of the present situation. Nothing else 
affected him. A real shame! 

* * * 

So I left the camp with a safe conduct. 

Another beautiful day was coming to a close and with the carelessness of 
youth I was really beginning to enjoy this marvelous adventure. 

Alas, I had hardly been gone for ten minutes than I again heard a familiar 
buzzing about my ears. I was beginning to know the routine by now. I 
scuttled towards a small concrete shelter I had noticed a few yards away. 

It was deliciously dark and cool inside. 

It had been used recently, so as the floor had been thoughtfully littered 
with straw by the latest occupants, I voluptuously flopped down on it. 

The throbbing of airplane engines gradually drew more distant and a pleasant 
feeling of drowsiness stole over me. I felt the weariness slowly sinking 
down my legs and my whole body. 

Abruptly a vivid recollection of the lieutenant came back to me. How I had 
loved that excruciating contact of his soft hands on my breasts, on my belly 
... ! 

Instinctively, my hand slid to my breasts and slowly I began stroking my 
nipples with my right hand while my left lifted my dress. 

Deftly it glided between my outstretched legs. 

How dangerous can be these lonesome manipulations ! 

I couldn't stand it any longer. My impatient fingers tore at my slip and, 
still playing about with my breasts, I masturbated, languorously thinking of 
the lieutenant. 

At last came the extreme rapture! Brutally, elatedly, I felt transported to 
a seventh heaven of carnal delight. 

I let out a soft sigh and, blissfully exhausted, fell asleep. 

I was knocked out of my slumber by a terrifying row. There was a tremendous 
clatter; with a fearful uproar, the roof seemed to be caving in and the 
floor coming up to meet me. The night was deadly black, only occasionally 
illuminated by the flash of a bomb exploding. 

I was dead scared, I crouched panting against the floor, expecting every 
second to be my last. 

There was a lull and for a moment everything was peaceful again. All of a 
sudden a dazzling light shone in my face. This time it was no shell flash 
but the beam of an electric torch. 

Someone had come in. 

Still blinded by the light, I couldn't see the intruder. 

Again I heard that dreaded buzz, then a fearful explosion close by. An 
instant later, howling with fright, I found myself hurled to the ground by 
the blast. 

That had been a close call! 

But I felt a man's arms around my shoulders and a soft voice murmur: 

"Don't be afraid, little girl ... " 

He had switched off the torch. Everything was dark. Trembling, I nestled 
against this stranger's welcome breast. 

Another explosion, further away this time; but this time I didn't yell; I 
just snuggled closer to my mysterious visitor. 

How long did I remain there? I don't know. Now all was quiet and the shelter 
completely obscure. After a while I felt something hurting my breasts. I 
groped in the dark. Then I understood, my stranger was a soldier and the 
copper buttons of his overcoat were pressing into me. I was relieved. I 
disengaged myself gently as it was getting as warm as an oven. 

He stretched out as well. 

I sensed he was taking off his overcoat with the scratching buttons. All the 
better. He again took me in his arms and whispered: 

"Don't be afraid, it's all over now." 

He spoke French, with the same accent they had used back at the camp. He was 
probably one of them. 

What if he was my lieutenant? No, unfortunately, it wasn't his voice. 

At 15 I was only a kid but I already knew I had plenty of spirit. Already at 
that age, I was depraved, inexperienced it's true, but the least contact 
with a man excited me and set me on fire. 

He was now in his shirtsleeves; I could feel the moistness of his body. Was 
he young or old, handsome or ugly? It was pitch dark. I couldn't tell and 
couldn't have cared less. 

He was beginning to warm up too. He lay his left hand on my breasts. At last 
this was my lucky day! 

He didn't just look me over, he got hold of my right breast and gently began 
stroking it. 

I could not restrain a jerk of pleasure. He understood at once and went 
straight to work. 

He slid his hand in my dress and this time started off petting my naked 
breasts. Then I felt him fondling my nipples. 

I stiffened, and my titties too. 

Still stroking and caressing, my stranger glued his lips to mine. 

Eliane and other schoolmates had already kissed my mouth during our 
"innocent pranks." But now ... I was getting my first real kiss ... from a 
man. 

At first I had instinctively tightened my lips but with delight I felt his 
tongue pry them open, insert itself in my mouth, darting in and out of my 
throat. 

It was a long time ago, yet as I write, I still seem to feel that warm 
clammy mouth glued to mine, his breath sinking into me and the velvet 
pressure of his greedy wet lips. 

I'd better not go on because I wouldn't be able to continue writing my 
memoirs. 

It would be a shame dear readers, because it's beginning to get a trifle 
daring. 

He stopped his kissing abruptly. His hand stopped his caresses, then without 
hesitation flew to my blouse. He popped out my breasts, at that time pretty 
tiny, exposed them fully, then avidly stuck his mouth to their stiffened 
points, while sucking them hungrily one after another. 

This time I felt completely entranced. I sighed gently. This probably seemed 
rather amusing to him but made clear how excited I was. Then I became aware 
of an excruciating sensation of intense heat lower down, my thighs 
unconsciously rubbing together, increasing my desire. I was now completely 
gone. If my partner had ceased, I felt strong enough to hold him back and 
force him to take me, to possess me, to do to me what we had so often talked 
about at school, of which I had always dreamed but never experienced. 

But he hadn't the least intention of stopping. 

Not for an instant ceasing, greedily sucking my titties, his hand turned up 
my skirt, ripped off my last defense, then knowing fingers squeezed between 
my legs, amorously stroking my hairless cunt. 

I exploded straightaway. 

My partner grunted with pleasure, got hold of my hand and put it between his 
legs. 

At last I held the "thing" which I had only seen twice before. 

How thick, how warm! 

I admit I was a little scared. Seeing and handling it at last, my 
opportunity had come! Not for long. He withdrew slightly, and gently spread 
out my legs completely. 

I was half crazed by his caresses, yet in a flash I saw it all as clearly as 
crystal. 

The fatal moment had arrived. This yearned-for moment which we had all 
longed for at the convent. 

"It's very painful and you bleed a lot," had said my elder sister. 

"It's not true, it is heaven and not at all agony," had replied my cousin. 

And so on, and so on. Each one of the bigger girls had given her opinion. 

Now I was going to get firsthand information. 

At any rate, in my case it all went off perfectly. 

My legs spread apart under his pressure, I filled my eyes with the 
proceedings. He placed his prick between my legs and moved upward on his 
knees until it was abreast of my crotch. He parted the hairless slit with an 
expert's touch and inserted "the monster" between my eagerly awaiting lips. 

The feel of his massive tool was far more agreeable than his fingers; then, 
as he suddenly pushed on his member, I felt a violent scorching within me. 
Feeling his pecker driving deeper in, an overwhelming desire to help him in 
his possession took hold of me. 

Instinctively, my whole body making one with his, we set off into a rhythmic 
frenzy of phallic ardor. 

Faster and faster, deeper and deeper he pierced into me. 

All of a sudden my lover stiffened, and his final spasm thrust me into a 
heaven of softness and relief. 

It was all over. 

Still only half realizing what had happened, I sank down next to him with a 
deep moan. 

Delicately he put his arms around me. 

"It did not hurt too much, did it?" 

I couldn't have answered, I just shook my head negatively, then with 
childish ardor, passionately I clung my lips to his. Being young I put 
everything in that kiss: satisfied passion, tenderness and above all the 
ancestral gratitude of the virgin for her possessor who had made her a 
woman. 

How long we stayed locked, now chastely together, I could not say. 

Anyhow I had long ago lost all notion of time. 

 CHAPTER V The Aftermath 

Now all was silent outside. The night air, deliciously warm and intimate, 
softly wafted in. 

I still clung languorously to my lover, filled with an enchanting sensation 
of fulfillment. He seemed to feel the same way. We were lying still, 
remembering how sweet had been those past moments! 

Then, pressing me closer to his manly chest, he whispered caressingly: 

"What's your name?" 

"Monique." 

"It's a pretty name. But how come you are alone in this shelter?" 

The shrieking of a whistle rent the air. 

My lover jumped. 

"Roll call," he cried. 

Quickly he dressed, while the whistling continued, piercing and persistent. 

"I've got to get back to camp now, I'll try to come back; in any case where 
are you going?" 

"I want to reach Furness where my mother is probably staying." 

"Good! I believe my regiment is moving there. I'll do my best to see you 
again." 

One last passionate embrace and he was gone. 

* * * 

That was the last I ever saw of him. I believe my case is quite exceptional. 
At the age of 15 a man took, or rather I offered him, my virginity, and I 
don't even know him. I don't know his name, how old he was, I haven't the 
slightest idea what he looked like. 

Of my many lovers, my initiator is the only one of which I know nothing. 

Strange are the ways of life. 

Anyhow, in these memoirs, I want to express my deepest gratitude to him. 

This I am able to appreciate even more now after my countless adventures. He 
acted with tenderness and tact, the very opposite of what I would have 
expected from a wandering trooper. 

After all the excitement, I fell asleep. A well-deserved slumber, the sequel 
of my first day of love. It is not every day that a girl makes love for the 
first time! 

Next morning I awoke to find the sun streaming in. It must have been fairly 
early, although I couldn't tell the time as my watch had stopped. 

All was quiet. From the coast distant gunfire and an ominous column of dark 
opaque smoke reminded me that a war was still on. 

I got to the now deserted camp where I was able to find fresh water, quickly 
splashed some over my face, then made a cup of cold coffee. 

Unhurryingly I set off for Furness. 

The whole place was in an uproar; soldiers, civilians, cars, lorries, trucks 
and all the rest of it blocking all traffic. 

The situation did not look very promising, I was seriously beginning to 
wonder how I should find my mother in this mess. 

Luckily I remembered that one of our friends knew the proprietor of the main 
hotel: "The Golden Crown." 

I had no trouble locating it. 

In peacetime it had been a luxury hotel, but today it looked more like 
barracks, a school, a garage or in fact, a dump; anything but a palace. 

Meeting the owner's wife, I lost no time in questioning her. 

"Yes my child, your friend, the Marquise B-, got here yesterday." 

Then it dawned on her. 

"You must be the daughter of that poor lady who lost you near the mill. Come 
quickly, your mother is terribly upset; she has been crying all day long." 

She took me up to a room on the third floor, where I found all my lost 
friends. You can imagine what happened next. A lot of sobbing, crying, wet 
hankies and what have you! I shan't bother you with all that sissy stuff. 

I made up an ingenious tale with a little truth and a lot of lies, which 
kept everybody happy, including myself. 

One of our fellow travelers was the marquise's brother. He was a handsome 
looking character about 40, with a soft, clean-cut face and a charmingly 
cynical smile, in fact a typically refined and distinguished aristocrat. 

The curious quizzical glances he shot at me during the revised version of my 
adventures made it clear to me that he, and he alone, doubted the truth of 
it. He gave me the impression of "feeling" that something had happened to 
me, that I was no longer the same. 

This woman's man, with his clear insight, guessed I was no longer the virgin 
schoolgirl he had met at Bruges. 

He lost no time in proving it. 

 CHAPTER VI Discovery Of Love 

Before this, he had scarcely noticed me. He had been polite enough, but 
distant. 

Now a sudden change came over him. 

His casual behavior grew into interest and even affection. 

When it comes to it, all men are the same. Dukes or tramps, their methods 
are all alike. 

To get what they want from a woman, they are all milk and honey. When 
they've got it, they become their real selves again: selfish, liars, 
domineering. 

Naturally my newfound admirer was a perfect exponent of this art. 

Right from the first moment, he began the groundwork. We were due to leave 
for Paris the next day, as the van was being repaired. 

We were all six crowded together in the same room. As the room was by no 
means big, you can readily imagine how much space each one of us had. 

I don't know how he managed it, but my aristocratic friend contrived to put 
his mattress next to mine. 

I don't need to tell you that we all slept fully dressed. 

In a way, you will understand, it was just as well . . . 

So everyone made themselves as comfortable as possible in view of the 
circumstances. My mother, filled with joy at having found me, lay by my 
side, holding my hand. 

Next to me, the marquis smoked his last cigarette. All day he had been 
perfectly charming: 

"My dear little girl ... my dear Monique ... how glad I am you are safe and 
sound." 

In other words, the usual line of a professional seducer. 

For a man who during the years had hardly looked or spoken to me, he was 
certainly quickly making up for lost time. 

Tired out by all they had gone through, everyone slept soundly. Only two of 
us remained awake: Jack and I. 

He was still, his cigarette glimmering in the dark. A long last pull before 
he threw it away. The next minute, his presence came dangerously closer. 

I heard a soft, hardly audible voice: 

"Are you awake, Monique?" 

"Yes." 

"I suppose you're still thinking of what happened yesterday?" 

"As a matter of fact, I am, my dear viscount." 

"Please, don't call me viscount, just Jack." 

"But I never ... " 

"Before, you were only a child." 

"Now, I suppose, I am not?" 

He grunted hesitantly, then added quickly: 

"I seemed to have noticed a great change in you since yesterday." 

I played dumb. 

"What do you mean, since yesterday?" 

"Nothing in particular, I merely had the impression you did not tell the 
whole truth." 

"What are you insinuating?" 

"Now, my dear child, I am your devoted friend. You can tell me everything; I 
shall understand. I am old enough to be your confidant. I can assure you, 
all I want is your happiness." 

With that, I felt my hand imprisoned gently in his. 

Needless to say, I had no intention of describing the goings on in the 
shelter! 

Despite myself, I really don't know why, maybe it was my youthful 
inexperience, the silence of the night, or my passionate temperament, my 
willpower melted to the sound of his soft melodious voice, my resistance 
weakened to the tenderness of his touch. 

I tightened my grip on him and whispered: 

"If you only knew!" 

"But I do, my child, or rather I can guess: you were alone, the night was 
warm, danger close at hand, then from nowhere came the safe arms of an 
unknown protector. What followed was so natural: a kiss, an insinuating long 
kiss; I needn't go on." 

Like a snake, I felt him wriggle next to me, slipping his hand under my 
chin, firmly pulling my head on his shoulder. 

A sensation of complete relaxation and well-being stole over me. 

His strong, manly paw inserted itself in my light pajama, taking hold of my 
right breast, kneading it in a soft circling motion. 

The effect of his voluptuous caresses soon sent me into violent paroxysms. 
Realizing my state of excitement, he deliberately crushed his lips to mine; 
at first slowly, then more deeply, his searching tongue probed into me. 

Once more I couldn't resist the agonizing touch of a man without completely 
losing my head. 

For a beginner I was starting off on the right foot. Hardly had I 
experienced the feeling of my first prick than another man was attempting to 
insert his member in my untried cunt. 

But I anticipated too soon. 

Jack, still petting my hardened points jutting out tantalizingly in his 
direction, savoring the flavor of my delectable palate, shoved away my 
pajama with his free hand which hovered provokingly over my smooth belly; at 
last reaching my awaiting mound, already inflated and juicy. 

Despite my semi-hysterical state, I was already visualizing what was to 
follow. I knew the setup now, a repetition of what had happened in the 
shelter: kneeling between my legs and fucking me. 

I was learning quickly, it seemed. 

I couldn't have been more wrong; there I was jumping to hasty conclusions 
again. 

He did not make the slightest attempt to move nearer, but his wandering 
fingers continued tirelessly playing about with my rosy twat. 

How experienced he was! Coaxingly driving me to the very edge of 
fulfillment, he knew exactly when to stop. Again and again he sent me to the 
verge of ecstasy, which procured me an incredibly deliciously new sensation. 

How many times he manipulated me to the brink of that precipice of delight, 
I don't know; then finally he topped his masterly touch to its heavenly 
conclusion. 

I came immediately. 

Lost in a frenzy of delight, my mouth opened to let out a tremulous moan. 
Luckily he had foreseen this, and his hand clamped on my mouth; otherwise we 
should certainly have woken my mother. 

At last relieved, I relaxed. Happier than I had ever been before, I 
gradually cooled down, pleasantly anticipating what was to follow: that is 
Jack taking me like the soldier in the shelter. 

To my undying astonishment, he did nothing of the sort. 

He murmured: 

"Happy?" 

"Wonderful!" 

Gratefully I snuggled closer to him. Then, with infinite tenderness, he took 
my hand and without further ado placed it on his cock. 

Happy to be able to repay the pleasure he had given me, I clumsily took hold 
of his virile rod and tried my best to excite his growing member. 

Deftly he guided my inexperienced hand till my willing fingers got the right 
timing. 

Stiffer and thicker it grew till a hot milky-jet of sperm shot from his 
loins. This was a great improvement on my soldier; instead of playing only a 
passive role, I was taking an active part in the proceedings and giving my 
partner a wonderful time. 

I felt transported with pleasure when he twisted towards me, sinking into an 
oblivion of primitive desire. He fell back on his couch exhausted. But he 
promptly recovered, then took me in his arms as if he would never let me go. 

"Darling, thank you!" 

We remained locked together for an eternity. 

Again it came to me, this was really living. One hour with such a creature 
was not to be compared with all the time wasted petting each other at the 
convent. One thing astonished me. How differently, but oh so completely, two 
men had filled me with such ecstasy. Don't forget, I was young and 
inexperienced at lovemaking. I had difficulty in making out that sexual 
enchantment could be as exhilarating whether brought on by masturbation or 
copulation. 

Anyway, I can assure you that Jack with his fingers gave me at least as much 
satisfaction as the soldier with his prick. 

This shook all my preconceived ideas on the subject, but it happened to be a 
fact. 

As you can see, I had yet a lot to learn. Although I still remembered my 
soldier with gratitude, now I preferred Jack. 

Lost in a delicious torpor, we slept cemented together, his hand on my wet 
cunt and mine on his sticky, deflated cock. 

* * * 

Next morning we set off for France. Being a cool customer, Jack, needless to 
say, was the perfect gentleman, so that my mother and friends did not guess 
a thing. In any case, my mother had never been particularly bright and now 
she was so busy moaning about her present misfortune that she really did not 
have time for anything else. 

The journey to Paris was uneventful as far as love was concerned. We 
couldn't be alone together for a moment. 

We slept in the van but, unfortunately, Jack and I could not profit by it. 

After three days on the road, dusty and worn out, we arrived in Paris. 

 CHAPTER VII Paris, June 1940 

When we got to the capital, we found all our friends gone. This was a cruel 
blow. There we were without money in a friendless unknown town now occupied 
by the Germans. At first we put up at a hotel, which turned out to be too 
expensive. 

At this point Jack entered with masterly flourish. He had found us a small 
three-roomed flat where he came to live with us. 

Naturally, this intimate proximity enabled us to carry on our little sexual 
exercises in complete security. 

My dear mother was away on her "errands" all day. This consisted of looking 
up all our aristocratic connections, as she naively still believed her title 
was an open sesame to social life and fortune in this foreign town. 

They were all very polite but absolutely useless. 

Needless to say, this suited the lovebirds perfectly. Jack was able to carry 
on my initiation to love without hindrance. 

He gave me my first lesson in the art of complete nudity. 

I went to his room, where he studied me longingly. Then, murmuring sweet 
nothings, as only he was able, he began to strip me, till I had nothing on 
but my shoes. 

His hands, with a gentle almost feminine touch, worked up my naked legs. 
Like grasping tentacles his thrilling fingers glided on my ankle, slowly, 
tentatively up my legs, then caressingly down again. 

As you can imagine, the effect on me was miles different from the girlish 
tickling at the convent. Just the feeling of his touch and I was entranced. 

With maddeningly languorous gestures he massaged the velvet approaches to my 
inner temple till, rhythmically and insidiously, he was on my clitoris. 
Pursuing its deliberate purpose, his hand moved slowly over filmy material, 
gently caressing the soft flesh between my hot thighs. A few final dexterous 
strokes completed his masterpiece, sending me off on the crest of turbulent 
passion. 

Jack, increasing his possession of me every day, improved my education so 
that we could share greater pleasure together. 

Another of his pastimes was watching me walk across the flat with only my 
pajama top on. He had taken care to cut off all the buttons in order not to 
obscure the view, thus not restraining the freedom of my ever growing 
breasts. 

He carefully scrutinized the hidden channel between my two lily-white 
protruding buttocks, making a thorough examination of my soft, dry pubic 
hairs. 

Having filled his ocular senses to the fullest, he got hold of my tits 
through the convenient opening in my pajama, his nimble fingers again 
playing their loving rhapsody, his expert mouth greedily sucking their 
hardened tips, nibbling their rosy surface, gradually sliding to my belly, 
then further down, to my eagerly awaiting lips, already moist with burning 
desire. There he lingered long enough ... until I came. 

Now it was my turn. 

I threw away my only piece of clothing and stood revealed in complete 
nudity. I poured passionate kisses all over his hairy chest. He offered me 
his steaming sex, which, kneeling to its height, I gobbled greedily, turning 
his balls deftly in my hands as I had used to manipulate the beads of my 
rosary at the convent. 

Closing my eyes, I tenderly pressed his penis into my lax mouth. Holding it 
firmly, like a spoiled child refusing to eat his dinner, I found my tongue 
lingering around its swollen head, licking it till it became longer and 
smoother. His red-hot poker seemed to burn right into me, then an endless 
spurt of sperm flowed into my mouth. Full of the taste of him, I had a 
volcanic eruption. 

The most surprising thing was that it was I who had to beg to be fucked. 

He did not say no, but in the normal way it would never have crossed his 
mind to do it. 

After a particularly riotous bout, we lay together, relaxing. 

"Darling." 

"Yes ... " 

"I don't know how to put it ... what I mean to say is, why don't you give it 
to me like the soldier in the shelter?" 

Hesitating, he tried to change the subject. 

"Aren't you satisfied with our way?" 

"You know I am! Still I would really love you to take me fully." 

"Well now, if that is your only worry, I shall be only too pleased to 
oblige." 

No sooner said than done. 

Jack produced the necessary item, my hand oscillated to good purpose, and a 
couple of minutes later his tool was ready. 

He tilted me backwards on the bed, bringing back memories of my little 
friend Eliane. Kneeling over me, he spread my legs apart. He clamped his 
hands behind my waist and drew me towards him, his stiff prick imbedding 
itself in my juicy cunt, twitching and grabbing at the incoming monster. 
Shoveling in and out like an enormous piston into the well-oiled machinery 
of my greasy vagina, deeper and deeper it dug into the nether regions, 
opening the dam of his incoming hurricane and loosening the now irresistible 
pressure of my tidal flow. 

* * * 

For the first time in my life I had felt the complete satisfaction of a 
well-fucked woman. 

The skillful manipulations of my cunning teacher were the fulfillment of the 
foretaste given me by my unschooled soldier. 

During this latest experiment, I scarcely noticed a fact which later on 
became obvious: Jack got more satisfaction out of digital caresses than the 
normal sexual act of copulation. In other words, my depraved professor had 
no particular liking for the common coital possession. 

He was nearly a unique specimen, and among all my other lovers, seldom have 
I met one with similar tastes. 

All the same, despite this peculiar perversion, I adored Jack and during our 
moments of freedom responded eagerly to all his advances, lending my 
youthful body to all his vicious and abnormal desires. 

I can only hope all the ladies reading this, especially the unsatisfied 
beginners, will have such a genius in the art of love to satiate unfulfilled 
cravings. 

In this way they will get to know more about sexual intercourse than Dr. 
Kinsey himself. 

* * * 

Unhappily dropping this pleasant subject, I shall have to relate something a 
lot less pleasant. 

One evening Jack came in later than usual and I immediately saw by the look 
on his face that something was up. I was right. After supper we went into 
the lounge. 

"I want to have a serious talk with you both," he said, addressing my mother 
and I. "I am afraid I have bad news. I don't want to hide anything from you. 
I am in the secret service, and much as I would like to stay, my duty calls 
me away. Please don't make a scene, it can't be helped. I shall leave you 
all the money I've got as I don't need it now; you can pay me back after the 
war. I'll try to get back to see you both. For the moment, I think you will 
be safer in Paris." 

The next day Jack and I had our last meeting. 

After preliminary skirmishes to put us in the mood he took me. To my 
astonishment he lay me down, tenderly stroking my thighs which opened 
immediately, then slowly, almost religiously, without the usual complicated 
fondlings, inserted his rod and dug into me. 

I came at once. A trifle later I felt the flood of his boiling sperm pouring 
into me, as he murmured tenderly: 

"Darling ... darling ... " 

Many times I had heard him say these words in the same circumstances but 
never with such affectionate devotion. As I listened to him I felt this was 
the end of our happiness and a last farewell. 

On the same evening he left us. I never saw him again. 

 CHAPTER VIII An Understanding Boss 

The following months were the blackest of my life. 

The money Jack had lent us soon vanished into thin air and we were reduced 
to selling off jewelry to make ends meet. 

But even this source of supply eventually dried up, leaving us one gloomy 
morning without a bean. 

Young as I was, I realized this precarious situation couldn't be allowed to 
go on any longer. I decided to take the bull by the horns and start working. 

However, my dear aristocratic parent had other ideas on the subject. She 
considered it disgraceful for a daughter of such a noble family as ours to 
lower herself to actually working. This she judged to be the final word in 
social degradation. 

Nevertheless, we had to eat, so after having had to listen to her incessant 
moaning, I finally decided to ignore her and curled up in the sofa while 
perusing the advertisements in the day's paper. This, incidentally, had been 
bought with our last penny. 

"Saleswoman wanted urgently. Even inexperienced. Novelty store, 14 Rue des 
Italiens." 

The very next morning, at nine sharp, I was on the doorstep admiring the 
attractive window display. Right away I felt I had come to the right place. 
I went in. A very smart young woman came across to meet me. 

"Good morning Miss, what can I do for you?" 

"Good morning, Madame, I have come in answer to your advertisement." 

"Very well. Please sit down, I will call my husband." 

It seemed things were turning out all right. Obviously she was the owner's 
wife. She looked charming and understanding and I sensed this should not 
prove too difficult to handle. 

A moment later a handsome man of about 30 put in an appearance. 

"I hear you want to work for us. You look very young to me. How old are 
you?" 

"I am 18," I lied glibly, not wanting to seem too young. 

"Have you ever worked before?" 

"No sir, I am afraid not. I have only just left school, but owing to the war 
... " 

At this stage he noticed my strong Flemish accent. 

"You do not sound French." 

"No, I am Belgian. My mother and I left Bruges because of the war." 

His wife cut in: 

"In that case you must speak Belgian!" 

I had difficulty in restraining a smile. 

"Everyone in Belgium speaks French and Flemish. As you can see I can speak 
French but my native tongue is Flemish." 

"It is a pity you cannot speak German, as we have a lot of German officers 
as customers and my husband and I cannot understand them." 

Luck was with me. 

"Flemish and German are rather alike. If I speak Flemish to one of your 
German customers he will understand me, and vice versa. 

I felt them warm towards me. 

"This young lady seems to be just right; what do you think?" 

"I quite agree. She looks the perfect type to . . ." 

The doorbell interrupted the conversation as a high-ranking German officer 
stalked into the shop. 

He saluted and spoke in clumsy French, groping for each word: 

"I would like some perfume, please." 

Jumping at the opportunity, I took the liberty of turning to the officer and 
assumed my most attractive smile. 

"Dag, Mijneer Officer." 

Pleasantly surprised to hear someone speaking Flemish, he burst out: 

"Do you really speak Flemish Miss?" 

"Ja, Mijneer." 

"Ach so! I would like a small bottle of expensive perfume." 

"Jawohl, mein Herr Officer." 

I explained his wants to the owners, handed him what he had asked for, gave 
him his change, and showed him out with warm thanks in his mother tongue. 

The gratified look on his face as he went out had an immediate effect on the 
couple. They both crowded round me, congratulating me on my excellent 
performance. I was hired on the spot. 

And that is how in the year of 1941, I, blue-blooded daughter of a noble 
family, became a saleswoman ... at the monthly hiring rate of a thousand 
francs. 

* * * 

This was not much, but enabled us to live. Despite my mother's continuing 
indignation, I gradually grew to like my first job. The customers were 
mostly rich and elegant, thus taking me back to the luxurious way of living 
we had had in Bruges. 

But there were more attractive benefits. 

Very often masculine employers make use of their position to seduce and 
force their unwelcome attention upon the younger female staff, threatening 
to get rid of them if they don't give in. In my case it was the other way 
around. I fell in love with the boss. 

At the beginning I had been so busy learning my new job that I had no time 
to think of anything else. However, after a while I got the hang of it and 
did everything almost automatically. This left me the leisure to study the 
customers, the way they behaved, their dress, their jewels, etc ... 

Then I got fed up with this little pastime and began to observe the owner 
and his wife. 

The lady of the house was particularly attractive. She was a fine figure of 
a woman, always tightly laced in well-cut dresses with plunging necklines, 
so that she seemed to have great difficulty in preventing her generous white 
breasts from bursting out at her least movement. As she paraded in the shop, 
swinging her finely molded hips in well-modulated undulations, she was the 
perfect incarnation of sex appeal. 

She was so sexy that the errand boy, only about 13, used to ogle her 
surreptitiously, then run to the lavatory, where imagining her naked body in 
bed next to his, he would let loose his mounting desire with agile fingers. 
After having had a good toss, he would come out scarlet, his eyes bulging 
from their sockets. 

This is to show you that her charms were fully appreciated even by 
precocious kids. 

Her husband was more distant and aloof, although very kind. I was near him 
eight hours a day. Jack had left me thirsting for his caresses. 

Some nights I used to fondle my tits, then slide down to the ever open lips 
of my un-satiated moist cunt, digging my probing fingers in the pulpy flesh 
until their tips were sticky with my juices. Licking them ravenously, I 
tried to recapture the delight of gobbling Jack's enormous prick. A poor 
substitute indeed! 

Instinctively I had an intense desire to make love with my attractive boss. 

Men are all the same. When it comes to sleeping with a pretty girl, you can 
always count on one hundred percent cooperation. 

Rene, for that was his name, may have seemed offhand, but he was no 
exception to the rule. 

Despite my youth, I had been well-groomed by Jack, and knew how to get what 
I wanted. 

One morning I happened to be alone with Rene. I pretended that one of the 
upper shelves needed cleaning, and climbed up the small ladder. As soon as I 
was on the top, taking particular care to spread out my legs as far apart as 
possible, I called him over with a ravishing smile, 

"Do you really think these bottles look their best up here?" 

Coming over, I must admit he looked first at the shelf, then answered: 

"Yes, but I should shift them more to the right." 

He was now right underneath me. Leaning toward the shelf I parted my legs 
even farther. I gave him a front-row view of my thighs and his searching 
gaze seemed to bore through my dainty translucid panties into my yawning, 
expectant trench. 

He was tactful enough not to show his growing excitement, but merely added: 

"I think tomorrow morning we should tidy up the higher shelves." 

Okay, my friend, I understand, you had a good look today, you want a better 
one tomorrow; I won't disappoint you. 

So next morning, when dressing, I conveniently forgot to put on my slip. 

When I got to the shop, putting on my most innocent air, I inquired: 

"Shall we see to the higher shelves today, sir?" 

"Yes, why not." 

In a jiffy I was up the ladder, giving him an eyeful of my naked crack. 

It did not take long. Standing perfectly still, his eyes pouring into my 
unvirgin forest, his gaze took on a crazy animal look of awakened passion. 

This time I was sure he had been able to make a minute investigation of my 
inner regions with particular reference to that mysterious triangle crowned 
by those blonde curly hairs. 

He took hold of himself in a moment, but only the better to work out his 
next move. 

"Come down to help me fix these bottles." 

"Certainly sir." 

I had hardly gone down two or three rungs when I felt two strong arms 
lifting me and putting me down on the ground. Two hands grasped my breasts. 
My head drawn backwards, his greedy lips stuck to mine. Intoxicated, I 
opened my mouth. His searching tongue found mine. Our teeth knocked 
together. Under his expert pressure, my breasts stuck out under my light 
dress. A long satisfying kiss ended with a soft sigh. 

His voice hoarse, he gasped: 

"Did you do it on purpose?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Not putting on anything underneath." 

My only answer was a diabolical smile. 

Wasting no more time, he introduced his hand under the dress. Lightly 
shimming over feverish thighs, he found my expectant furnace. His burning 
fingertips worming their way into my red-hot cunt produced a sensation of 
utter ecstasy and, squirming and shivering, I unloosed the accumulated 
overflow of mammal orgasm. J 

I stayed pressed to him, motionless, as he looked down at me, smiling, 
apparently well satisfied with his morning's work. Then he drew me towards 
the back of the shop. 

"But what about your wife?" 

He shrugged negligently. 

He laid me down on the rug. Again he lifted my skirt and, reverently 
contemplating my cleft still over-boiling from excitement, slowly, without 
hurrying, he thrust his lance into me. He was not in the same class as Jack 
for all the preliminary diversions, but he was an artist at the normal 
sexual act. 

Now slowly, then faster, he carefully worked up to a calculated rhythm, 
always just stopping on the edge of his spasm and mine. 

At last the moment came. Pushing his monster to the climax, he filled my 
inside with endless waves of hot milky fluid which mingled with the outgoing 
tide of my orgasm. 

A few moments later, letting down my dress, I sat down on the sofa. I could 
not resist saying: 

"How marvelous it was!" 

My new lover burst out laughing, then kissing me said: 

"You may be a trollop but you don't make any bones about it." 

That was my first contact with my third lover. 

Anyone seeing us just afterwards busily tidying up the shop would have been 
surprised to have learned what had just gone on. 

As usual, when his wife came in she greeted me with an affable smile. I was 
young and rather stupid then; I felt very nearly sorry for her. 

This did not last long, however. 

Next day my lover surreptitiously murmured: 

"I will meet you in my studio tonight after we have closed." 

"What about your wife? 

"Don't worry your pretty little head about that." 

After we had closed up, he showed me into his apartment above the shop. 

His wife had been gone for about an hour. I asked where she was. 

"Don't worry, she is out." 

He sat me down on a large and comfortable sofa where he undertook to strip 
me. I protested feebly. 

"Please, what if she should come in " 

"It doesn't matter, darling, she is out." 

As I have already told you, when a man kisses me and strips me, playing his 
tingling fingers all over my anatomy, pawing me with frenzied caresses, it 
sends me out of my mind. I can't help it, that's the way I am made. So 
naturally I had no time left to worry about his absent spouse. 

Rene popped out my two ripened pears, with their tiny upturned points, 
nibbling and sucking them; then, unfastening my skirt while idly stroking 
and kneading my buttocks, he lifted it over my head. With the result that, a 
minute or two later, I was stark naked on the cushy sofa. 

Then his famished lips worked down on my neck, on my pouted lips, on my 
breasts now as hard as rock, then on my belly already arched towards his 
willing, slithering tongue. 

I was already lost, when all of a sudden, despite myself, I heard a slight 
noise. My eyes widened and I uttered a cry. His wife had come in! 

I leapt off the couch, completely out of my mind. I looked everywhere for a 
hiding place. I wished the floor would swallow me. 

A soft and ironical voice nailed me down. 

"Well my little friend, what's got hold of you?" 

Bewildered, I stared at her, fascinated. 

She was leering at me mockingly. 

I must have looked a perfect fool, absolutely naked; I gazed into her eyes 
fearfully. 

She had the cheek to ask me what I was doing. 

At that time I was still naive! The legitimate wife of my lover found me 
nude in his arms and she just smiled and asked me what I was frightened of! 
This upset all my preconceived ideas. I have seen worse since, but just at 
that moment it seemed incredible. 

There was more to come. 

Still smiling, she approached me and tenderly forced me down on the sofa. I 
had no will of my own, but was like a puppet in her hands. 

As she bent down to my level, to my astonishment, her fur coat opened, 
revealing her completely naked body. 

I was so bewildered that I had difficulty in taking in what was happening to 
me. 

With fondling and wheedling gestures, she maneuvered my body into a more 
comfortable position, then, with a swift movement, rid herself of her 
superfluous garment, revealing her sensuous, provoking anatomy. 

Her fully shaped breasts already stuck up towards me like a couple of 
spoiled poodles begging for biscuits. 

The black bushy hairs of her pussy hypnotized my eyes like priceless 
jewelry. 

She was a sexy bitch! 

Still with a charming smile, she bent solicitously above me. Her charming 
voice was now a little strained. 

"Well, Monique, you did not expect to see me here, did you?" 

I shook my head negatively. 

That was all I was capable of doing by now. 

She took my head in one hand and with the other stroked my breasts. As she 
did so, hers protruded dangerously towards my face. 

She went on: 

"Why couldn't I join in with you both in your fun and games? As usual, Rene 
has told me all about it. He has already described your beautiful, promising 
body. I can see he did not exaggerate. It also seems you have a healthy 
sexual appetite and an inexhaustible thirst between your rosy petals. It's 
only fair I should want to have my share of it. My dear husband told me I 
should be very satisfied, and I can quite believe it after having seen you." 

While she had been speaking, I had forgotten all about her husband. Now, 
looking round for him, I found he had wasted no time; he had also stripped. 
He was completely naked! 

Smiling, his whole face afire with desire, he scrutinized the two female 
beauties who stood revealed before him. 

His battering ram thrashed the air with renewed ardor. 

He came towards us, then spoke to his wife. 

"What do you think of her Suzette?" 

"She is a marvel, a real gem, darling." 

I heard no more, as Suzette, having had enough of just looking at me, 
pressed her lips to mine, forced open my mouth, inserted her throbbing 
tongue with deft strokes, tasting the full flavor of my salivary excretions. 
Hysterically, her hands forced my buttocks upon her body, while from behind 
Rene darted his red-hot poker into her. 

This touched off my orgasm. 

To my great surprise, he fished his rod out of her and, seizing me roughly, 
stuck it agonizingly through my labia, up into the vagina, high up towards 
the cervix, undulating his behind furiously between my legs. His 
self-imposed frustration disappeared on the first entry. Up and down he 
drove his penis, growing thicker and stronger at every stroke; I clung to 
him desperately, moaning softly. I clutched his advancing knob, welcoming it 
into my dark tunnel. He put his hands round the delectable mounds of my 
buttocks. As his searing tool advanced deeper and deeper into me, I felt him 
sucking and nibbling at the tautened points of my breasts. His cock was now 
an enormous beast roaming into my primeval forest, ready to burst at any 
moment. He gasped, caught his breath, then lost it in a great out surging of 
his lungs as he discharged shot after shot from his "big bertha"; answering 
his precise aim, I exploded into myriads of tiny fragments of excruciating 
spasms. 

 CHAPTER IX A Clumsy Youth 

Truth to say, I was now very happy. We got along on my salary and I worked 
in a pleasant atmosphere. Above all, my sexual appetite was satisfied. 

In fact I had all I desired, not only a lover, but also a mistress. Not 
everyone could have done as much at my age! 

Nearly every night after work, we used to hold our intimate gathering. Rene 
and Suzette fulfilled all my desires. We had hardly closed when I would run 
to the studio. I would strip in a jiffy, then, naked, stretch out, already 
satisfied. A few minutes later they would both come in wearing their 
dressing gowns. As that was all they had on, in a second we were all naked 
and unashamed. Alternately one of us would be the willing victim on the 
sofa. If it was Rene, we would stretch him out, our eager lips traveling 
over every crook and cranny of his body. The poor fellow! He would soon find 
himself in such a state of over-boiling passion that one of us would 
generously offer her cavernous orbit to quench his slaking thirst. 

If Suzette or I was the tender victim, Rene and the other partner would put 
her into such a state of hysterical frenzy that she would scream and yell 
for his phallic manhood, while the third musketeer struggled to interest her 
groping tongue with her open cunt. 

Now and again, Rene had to go away on business. Suzette and I would console 
ourselves as best we could with a rubber imitation of his magnificent tool. 
It was on such a night that I left the shop after a bout with Suzette. 

Our feminine caresses had not, I must admit, satisfied me. Rene's monster 
was really irreplaceable. 

Strolling by the opera, I decided to go to the pictures on the Boulevard de 
la Madeleine. They were showing "The Emperor's Waltz" with Marika Rokk. 
After a while I was completely absorbed by the film. 

"It is a good film, isn't it, Miss? Don't you agree Marika Rokk is lovely?" 
I heard a husky voice whisper. I had not noticed him come in. 

"Yes, she is." 

Becoming bolder, he leaned towards me: 

"You are even more beautiful!" 

He could not possibly see me, as it was pitch dark. 

"Really, sir ... " 

"Don't be angry, just let me take your hand. I promise I will be good." 

He got hold of my hand and started creeping up my bare arm. Trying to stop 
him, I unfortunately pressed my tit lightly on his forearm. Waiting no 
longer, his hand left mine and gripped my right breast. My first thought was 
to take is away but he squeezed lightly and once more my volcanic 
temperament got the better of me. 

Nervously I contracted with pleasure. He noticed it at once and, taking 
advantage of the situation, darted his hand into my bosom where he could 
fondle my naked breast. His other hand lowered on my warming thighs, parted 
my willing gams and offered his stealing fingers to my enfolding suckers. 
With knowing rhythmic movements he sent me off to a sentimental journey. 

Obviously well satisfied with the result, he soon made me understand that 
one good turn deserves another. Deliberately he took my hand and placed it 
on his rapidly growing member. 

Not wanting to seem ungrateful, I willingly complied with his wishes. 
Undoing his fly, I did my best to procure him a delightful release. 

He was well on the way when he stopped me dead. 

"No," he whispered, "not here. Let's get out of this place!" 

Like a robot I obeyed. I followed him out. 

In the light of the boulevard, I studied him intently, as I had hardly seen 
him in the cinema. He was about 25, of medium size, and not too bad looking. 
However, he was rather poorly dressed. Still, the cut of his clothes did not 
matter much for what was to follow. 

This was to be another surprise. 

He drew me to the nearest dark spot. 

There he whispered: 

"Stay as you are; that's perfect, but bend a trifle further forward." 

I had my back to him, and pushing me downwards, he stood behind me, lifted 
my skirt, downed my slip and poked his rod into me. This new position was 
not at all displeasing; on the contrary I very soon flooded his genitals as 
well as his trousers with my treacly spending. My partner, deeply engaged in 
my passage, mingled his ejaculations with mine. 

To my astonishment he did not let me go, but twice again in rapid succession 
he proved to me that although he might choose peculiar places to make love, 
he could do it often and well! 

Notwithstanding, I had already noticed that, since the war, this had become 
a national custom. As soon as darkness came, every dim nook and cranny, 
every gloomy doorstep and embrasure, as well as all the other possible 
hiding places in the capital, were filled with clinging couples copulating 
in the moonlight. Their shadows rocking together in the gathering dusk 
seemed to be an everlasting cry of defiance against the occupant, the war, 
and the stupidity of the human race in general. 

* * * 

Anyhow, this open air sport was right up my street. I met him again several 
times. However, after a while I grew bored with always undergoing the same 
exercises. 

I failed to turn up at our next rendezvous, leaving my acrobatic lover to 
find another partner who would be willing to bend her posterior to allow him 
to swing his elephantine trunk into her yawning cavity. 

All in all, after this interlude, I appreciated even more Rene and Suzette's 
affectionate and refined caresses in their cozy intimate studio. 

* * * 

One fine day in the year of 1942, I discovered I was pregnant; a couple of 
weeks later it became a certainty. 

Of my four lovers, I could eliminate one right away as being the culprit. 
This was my soldier, as that was already two years ago. 

This left Jack, Rene and my acrobatic friend Emile. Jack was the least 
likely, as due to his abnormal and perverse ways, he had only fucked me 
three or four times. Moreover, it was he who had carefully instilled in me 
the basic principles of the necessary precautions to take immediately 
afterwards. 

The same went for Rene. Our amorous trio took every care after our 
triangular diversions. 

The obvious one was my outdoor companion, Emile. 

There were 99 chances out of a hundred he was the one, the municipal council 
having negligently omitted to provide running water on the streets for those 
who preferred to make love in the open. 

In any case, it made no difference. Whoever it was, the result was the same: 
I was pregnant. The outlook was bleak. There I was, supporting my mother and 
I on my salary. What was going to happen to us? How was I going to hide it 
from my mother? Who should I turn to for help? 

What a fool I was! Rene and Suzette obviously. 

So a little later, after one of our three-cornered marathons of sexual 
intercourse, while puffing negligently at a Turkish cigarette and sipping 
their last supply of whiskey, swilling its delicious flavor inside my 
palate, I blurted out my problem: 

"I am sorry to break up this intimate atmosphere but I would like to ask 
your advice." 

"Certainly, darling!" 

"If it is humanly possible, you can be assured of our help." 

"That's settled! Thank you! I am pregnant!" 

"You, pregnant?" 

"Maybe you're wrong." 

"No, unfortunately not. Listen while I tell you everything." I proceeded to 
unveil the whole story. 

Smiling, Suzette agreed with me. 

"As you say, it's almost certainly your bestial lover, Emile. My precious 
darling, you really should be more careful about making love to an unknown 
stranger who cannot even afford to take you to a room with the necessary 
toilet impedimenta, but finds it convenient to fuck you in public, like a 
mongrel and a bitch." 

"You would have done better to have brought him here, to make up a 
foursome," Rene added. 

"True enough," exclaimed Suzette, already thrilling at the idea of another 
manly item. 

"You are both right," I said, "but what about my problem?" 

Suzy thought for a moment. 

"Tomorrow I shall give you something which I hope will do the trick." 

I hugged them both gratefully and went home relieved. 

* * * 

Next morning, Suzette handed me a small tube of darkish colored liquid, 
telling me to take a teaspoonful every two hours. 

Unfortunately, the result was most disappointing. The only tangible 
consequence was that I had to leave early with violent stomach pains. Then 
Suzy got hold of the address of a midwife with a special talent for that 
sort of thing. 

I hurried over to her place. 

"Only too pleased to oblige," she said. "It will cost you 5,000 francs." 

"That's too much; I can't pay you all that right now. I will give you 2,000 
now and the rest later." 

Actually I had not a bean of my own to spare and 2,000 francs had been lent 
me by Rene, who could not at that time afford more as business was not too 
flourishing. 

"Nothing doing. I said 5,000 cash or nothing." 

"Please! I'll give you the rest later." 

"I am sorry; in this business it's all or nothing." 

Helplessly I went home. There, another blow fell. My mother was very ill and 
the doctor prescribed only the most expensive medicine, only available on 
the black market. 

How easy everything is when you have plenty of money! 

I had none at all! 

I remember crying with rage, alone in my bed that night. It comes back to me 
even now, clearer because it so seldom happened. 

Something in me became hard and merciless, and in one night I changed from a 
young carefree girl into a heartless, grabbing, skeptical, ambitious and 
perfidious woman, ready to take my place among the riffraff, profiteers, 
spivs and high class prostitutes who ruled wartime Paris, crushing and 
dazzling lesser mortals with their money and ill-gotten wealth. 

 CHAPTER X Angela 

I had already especially noticed one particularly elegant and refined lady. 
She often came in to buy perfume. I was naturally attracted to her and I 
believe she had also a sisterly feeling towards me. 

So that, when one morning she inquired solicitously after my health, I 
admitted to her that all was not well with me. 

As it was obviously impossible to go into any detail in the shop, she handed 
me her card with a personal invitation to meet her at the Casino de Paris. 

Showing Suzette the invitation which read "A. C.-artist," I learned with 
amazement that she was the star of that famed establishment. Suzy added 
meaningfully: 

"If you have fun together, don't forget to give us all the details." 

The very same evening, at half past nine, found me knocking at her loggia. 
Her maid answered and motioned me to a sofa, as her mistress was on the 
stage at that moment. 

I had hardly had time to take in the surroundings of her dressing room when 
abruptly Angela came in. 

I had a job recognizing her. Her face heavily daubed with makeup, her head 
crowned with a magnificent feather headpiece, she was cloaked in a scarlet 
dressing gown which revealed her fully shaped legs. 

She recognized me at once. 

"Ah, my dear Monique, I am so glad you have come to see me. I will be right 
with you, so that we can have our little chat." 

At these words, she threw away her mantle, standing revealed in complete 
nudity, except for a tiny silver triangle covering her most intimate parts. 

She was a real beauty! 

Despite her heavy stage makeup, I sensed underneath a youthful and 
unwrinkled face, below which her finely shaped breasts stood out firm and 
opulent, pointing their rigid carmine tips in my direction. Her perfectly 
smooth belly made an attractive setting for that minute triangular 
protection which fitted her so well. Her well-muscled thighs and her 
black-stockinged, elongated legs in their high-heeled shoes strongly 
supported her vigorous and beautiful body, born, it seemed, for the pleasure 
of good living and passionate caresses. 

Sitting close to her on the sofa, I told her everything, only omitting my 
employers' perverse pastimes. 

She listened in silence, then drawing me to her bosom, she embraced me 
gently. 

"You poor thing! I have to get back on the stage now, but come to my 
apartment, 17 Rue Royale, at six p.m. on Sunday and we shall be able to have 
a longer chat." 

"Thank you." 

We parted almost immediately and although she had not kissed my mouth, her 
two naked breasts had seemed to be magnificent fruits bursting with sap, and 
during her platonic kiss I had time to notice her eyes shining in that 
strange way, common to both man and woman, when their senses are aroused. 

Needless to say, I turned up on time at the appointed hour the next Sunday. 

The door opened and Angela herself showed me into her private boudoir. 

"Sit down, make yourself at home, as today we have plenty of time. First let 
us have a cup of real coffee." 

As owing to the war I had had nothing but ersatz for the last couple of 
years, I thanked her gratefully. 

I again narrated my tale, this time going into more detail. I hardly had 
time to finish when she went across to get her bag, out of which she fished 
a roll of bank notes. She handed them over to me, telling me to go the very 
next day to see the midwife and get rid of this embryo. 

On the spur of the moment, I refused. 

"I can't accept such a huge sum, because I won't ever be able to pay you 
back out of my salary." 

Strange as it may seem, I was entirely sincere. This woman was being kind to 
me and a curious sentiment, possibly the remains of my noble ancestors' 
pride, urged me to refuse this money which I so badly needed. 

Her face hardened. 

"You are going to take it! My dear girl, you are very attractive and I like 
you awfully, but I am not a mug. I hardly know you and I haven't the 
slightest reason to make you a present of 10,000 francs. So I am only 
lending them to you, together with the means to pay me back and earn a lot 
more for yourself. 

"Let us be practical. You are young, very pretty, in fact, the living image 
of a well-born and intellectually superior aristocrat. What have you got out 
of it so far? Look at you now; here you are selling perfume for a miserly 
wage with which you cannot even afford to buy all your meager rations. 
That's nothing to be proud of! Do you really think if I had done the same as 
you, I would now be a well-known star? Don't you believe it, I would also be 
an obscure saleswoman on the verge of starvation! 

"Don't forget that there are only two ways for a poor but good-looking and 
intelligent woman to get out of the rut: to become a complete wanton or join 
the salvation army. 

"I know people use a lot of highfalutin' words about honesty and modesty, 
conscience and all that usual rubbishy nonsense, but let us take a concrete 
example: What's conscience anyway? An illusionary invention of people who 
have never had to make a quick or dangerous decision in their lives. 

"You are still young, charming and attractive. If you don't use these 
powerful gifts now, before it's too late, you are either a weakling or a 
fool. It may be hard to swallow, but it's the truth. The world is made up of 
the oppressors and the oppressed. I am sure you are clever enough to be on 
the right side of the fence." 

For the first time in my life, I suddenly found somebody who could put into 
words what after all I had always believed in, and which was to be my 
guiding principle ever after: the law of the jungle. 

"Is it a deal?" 

"It's a deal! I'll take your money, and before six months are up, you shall 
have it back; and thanks for everything, not only the cash but your 
excellent advice. Before long I shall become like you, the toast of the 
town." 

She opened her arms and I flung myself into them with ardor. I kissed her 
passionately. Losing no more time, Angela, before I was aware of what she 
was doing, slipped her hands into my dress, pulling it up to disclose my 
peerless legs, then running them up my white thighs. Kneeling beside the 
sofa, she, caressing me with soft, knowing fingers, dipped their tips into 
my knickers. Slowly slipping them down my buttocks, she gently eased the 
soft flimsy panties down my thighs and tossed them aside. She expertly 
spread out my legs to show the pink lips of a delicious quim, nestling in 
the proud bush of my crisp pubic hair. As her ravaging fingers worked with 
fluttering motions into the pouting moist pinkness of the pulsating cranny, 
I moaned in the ecstasy of lascivious torment. 

She unzipped my gown and eased its loosening folds over the pouting breasts. 
She threw herself on me, her eager lips seeking the erect nipples, while 
working furiously at the moist, straining, thrusting mount of my maddened 
passion. 

My knees were high in the air, my thighs wide open to the thrusting fingers 
of my amorous partner. My fanny was now wide open to the lascivious push of 
Angela's fingers and I was filled with such a frenzy as I had never known 
before. I suddenly arched up from the couch like a stricken animal, my 
buttocks quite clear of the sofa. I thrust forward with my haunches so that 
Angela's fingers dipped more deeply into the softness of my pouting ring. 
Then she slipped her hands into the tops of her drawers and with a swift, 
sensual movement, undulated out of them. She unhooked her brassiere and her 
rosy tits sprang out. Then she came towards the place where I was lying; I 
stiffened as Angela raised my legs, and parted her own. 

She slipped her crotch up between my thighs so that our pussies were 
together. Then she took hold of my shoulders, clasping her hands over them. 
She began to pick up a rhythmic movement as we pulled on each other and 
rubbed our throbbing pubes together. 

Suddenly she freed herself from our embrace and slipped from the sofa onto 
the floor. Angela pulled me by the ankles so my buttocks slid over the edge 
of it. She gripped my white thighs, spread them out, clearing my small slit. 

Unexpectedly, Angela's head thrust forward, deep between my awaiting, 
quivering thighs. Her tongue thrust out, vibrant. Then she dipped it deep 
into the soft warmth of my dilated cunt, searching into my crack, that 
pulsed at each stroke of the agile tongue. 

At once I gave a wild, moaning shriek and collapsed. Her head rose and gazed 
at my face, but once again she lowered it and lingered softly with her 
greedy lips in my mount, while her hands were across my quivering belly. 
That was all I could stand, I had such an orgasm that I fainted. 

Awakening a while later, I remained silent for a moment. I wondered if I had 
to give her the very same pleasure she had just given me. No longer did I 
hesitate, but slipped down to her twat, paying back my share of it. I was 
not long on duty. Well stimulated, she came too, moaning and screaming. 

After this pleasant interlude, we discussed practical ways of putting into 
application her excellent theories. 

This brings us to a new chapter in my way of life. 

 CHAPTER XI My First German 

Before long I had a chance to put Angela's teaching into application. 

For some time now, I had noticed a high-ranking middle-aged German officer, 
on whose frequent visits to the shop had seemed to take a more than 
perfunctory interest in me. 

I had taken an even more pronounced interest in his long black Mercedes, 
which, with its outstanding pennon bearing an enormous black swastika, 
denoted a high-ranking member of the German high command. 

He was handsome in a brutal sort of way. His hair was blond and naturally 
curly, his face thin and pale, with clear-cut features, which together with 
his steel-blue eyes, gave him a cold and cruel look. But when he smiled, his 
sensual lips seemed to illuminate his whole expression, and he managed to 
look quite attractive. 

Deducing from his smart, brand-new uniform on which hung the highest Nazi 
decorations, including the iron cross, as well as the generously 
gold-braided shoulders, that his pockets must be well-filled with marks, I 
decided to take special interest in him. 

Next time he put in an appearance, I turned on my best Hollywood smile. 

Stiffening to a rigid position, he bowed as though I had been the mighty 
Fuehrer himself. I could hardly restrain myself from bursting out laughing 
in his face, but instead I accentuated my best welcoming smile. He stared at 
me intently, as though I already belonged to him. 

"Gutten Tag, Fraulein. Allow me to present myself: General Karl von Hetzer 
of the ever victorious German general staff, conqueror of the combined 
allied armies and defender of the Fatherland. 

"You are a very sweet girl and I should like to have the pleasure of getting 
to know you better." 

So saying, he took my hand and kissed it. A respectful, gentlemanly gesture, 
but a trifle too prolonged to be perfectly innocuous. 

From behind the cash desk, Suzy gave me a broad wink. She had not understood 
one word but his gestures made their meaning clear. 

As for me, I pretend to be slightly embarrassed and, blushing modestly, 
asked him what I could do for him. 

"Give me some perfume; anything will do, as long as I receive it from your 
pretty little hands." 

Not bad at all for a beginning. I decided to encourage him. 

"Why are you so kind with me, Herr General?" 

"Why indeed, my delicious doll? Because I have never seen anything as 
beautiful as you are. You are like a Greuze painting of a Madonna. You are 
the living image of Aryan youth, with your angelic profile beneath the 
aureole of your golden tresses." 

It was a pity that Suzy could not understand what he was saying about my 
pure and angelic character; she would have died of laughter. 

Still, on the whole, his behavior seemed to indicate that he was a gentleman 
of my social standing, which would be of help to me in my dealings with him. 
This badinage went on for a while; then, getting down to the point, he asked 
at what time I was free in the evening. I told him. 

"Gut. In that case, with your permission I shall be waiting outside with my 
car tomorrow evening, and I hope you will do me a favor of accepting my 
hospitality for a while?" 

Feigning a moment of hesitation, in order not to seem to jump at his offer 
too quickly, I accepted. 

The now familiar glint of male desire came into his eyes; for the fraction 
of a second he looked like a famished tiger licking his chops at the sight 
of freshly killed meat. At the same time, his usually pale face flushed 
slightly and his upper lip trembled almost imperceptibly. In a flash he 
again became an arrogant and too polite general of the immortal Third Reich. 
He took my hand again, and with the same formal decorum of his entrance he 
made his exit. 

* * * 

Next evening, at six sharp, the long black Mercedes waited on the opposite 
side of the street. 

My two amorous bosses, to whom I had of course spoken of my rendezvous, 
wished me luck, not forgetting to make me promise to give them all the juicy 
details of what we had all three thrillingly anticipated was to be my lot. 

As soon as the driver saw me come out, he rushed to open the car's door, 
stiffening to attention as I stepped in. 

I was getting up in the world. A mere saleswoman who was already being 
saluted by a flatfoot of the glorious, all-conquering Wehr-macht. 

General Karl von Hetzer welcomed me into his car as though he had been a 
lord greeting a duchess into his castle. 

"Wie befinden Sie, Miss? But let us not be formal, what is your first name?" 

"Monique." 

"What a charming name. And where does my little Monica want to go?" 

"Where ever you like, Herr General." 

Leaning toward the driver, he barked a curt command. 

The car sped on noiselessly into the night. We were alone together on the 
deep, comfortable cushions. It was dark, but surprisingly he remained a 
perfect gentleman. He just took my hand in his and held it gently the whole 
way, making banal conversation. 

Awhile later, stopping abruptly, I had a glimpse of a guard presenting arms, 
then we hurried into a darkened building. 

We went along a somber corridor, ending, as a brutal contrast to the 
blackout, in a big, brightly lit, well-furnished room. 

I stepped back, ill at ease. I felt awkward in my plain black dress among 
all the high-ranking officers accompanied by a few women with expensive 
evening dresses, mostly low cut with plunging necklines, hardly covering 
their prominent bosoms. 

"Don't worry about them," said my escort smiling. 

At our appearance, there was a general silence, followed by a clamor of 
"Heil Hitler," and the clicking of highly polished boots. 

We went over to a quiet corner table, where he ordered cocktails. 

Over a drink and a cigarette, in answer to his inquiries, I told him about 
myself. I did not, of course, tell him everything. For instance, I did not 
speak of my noble birth; I also left out my love affairs. Perhaps when I got 
to know him better, I would speak of them, but if he was naturally perverse, 
it would only excite him; on the other hand, if he was the sentimental type, 
the whole thing would be off. 

When I had finished, he thought things over for a while, then excused 
himself for a moment. Coming back five minutes later, he got hold of my 
handbag and deftly inserted an envelope into it. 

"My dear Monique, I have to leave you now, but before going I have left you 
a sum of money as a token of my admiration and friendship. We shall meet 
again at the same time and place the day after tomorrow. With it you can buy 
a dress or whatever you like." 

I thanked him warmly. 

"Don't thank me now; we shall see about that next time we meet." 

Back in the car, pressing our bodies close, we kissed passionately, but to 
my great surprise he let me go almost at once. 

The car slowed down outside my door, and we took a formal parting. 

As soon as I got back to the privacy of my room, I opened his envelope, 
which contained 5,000 francs! 

* * * 

Next day I gave a triumphant account of my outing to Rene and Suzette. 

They entirely approved my handling of the situation, but begged me not to 
forego our private sessions on his account. I reassured them. I had 
absolutely no plans to stop caressing and being caressed by this expertly 
vicious couple, who knew so well how to thrill and satisfy me. 

After having taken a couple of hours off to go and buy a new dress at the 
black market, I ran to Angela's place. 

She received me with open arms. Congratulating me on my performance, her 
face hardened when she found out that my lover was a general of the 
Wehrmacht. She considered it dangerous, although it might be profitable. 

Before parting we could not resist one long languorous kiss, our lips stuck 
to each other's and our tongues darting feverishly in and out. If I had not 
promised to get back to the shop as quickly as possible, we would soon both 
have been stark naked, once again resuming our lesbian pastime. 

* * * 

On the appointed day, punctually on the stroke of six, my new conquest drove 
up. 

I was hardly in the car when the general congratulated me on my purchase, 
praising my elegance and good taste. He went on: it was about time we should 
go and have supper at a little place he knew. 

Now I guessed what he was getting at. The usual routine. A good meal, 
followed by an even better fuck. This is usually known as the fleshly 
prelude. 

Having gone so far, things now had to follow their habitual course and reach 
their logical conclusion. After all, I had now made up my mind to be kept by 
men, or, in short, to become a prostitute. Since my principal occupation was 
now in the bedroom, I might as well take it smiling. Anyway, it probably 
wouldn't be bad at all to have my slit explored by the member of a general 
of the ever-advancing German spearhead. 

This was the first time I was going to give myself for money. 

I must say, I admired his taste in restaurants. It was cozy and comfortable 
inside, and we were shown into a small private room which he had reserved. 
He was a real gourmet. To the accompaniment of soft music, I ate the most 
delicious meal I had tasted since before the war. In fact, I made rather a 
pig of myself, while my friend remained silent to let me savor every tasty 
dish. 

At last, having had my fill, slightly flushed with good food and drink, I 
thanked him effusively. 

"Happy?" 

"Delighted!" 

"Gut. In that case let's get to business. Monique, you lied to me!" 

"Who, me?" 

"Certainly. You are not Monique an unknown saleswoman, but Monique van P- 
daughter of the Ambassador of Belgium to the Quirinal. Furthermore, you did 
not come to Paris alone with your mother. You came with the Marquess van 
Becker, but above all you omitted to tell me about Count Jack van M-, who 
was your lover." 

"However did you find out all this?" 

"My dear girl, this country happens to be under our control. We have to know 
what goes on, and we do. The Gestapo is very thorough and it was child's 
play for me to uncover your lies." 

I quickly recovered. 

"I did not lie to you, but merely left out certain details of my private 
life. Why speak about my noble past when I am at the present moment only a 
poor unhappy saleswoman?" 

"Don't mistake me, I don't reproach you any of it. On the contrary, you 
might have understood that a Viscountess is worth a lot more than a mere 
saleswoman. As for your lover, that of course is a question of personal 
appreciation." 

I smiled and kept silent. 

He took my hand and said: 

"Still friends?" 

"Very much so." 

"Soon we can be even more, if you want us to!" 

I did not hesitate, I had a feeling it was better not to do so. 

"Why not? I like you, and you seem to find me to your taste." 

"Even more than you think." 

As he said this, he smiled cruelly, already mapping out his next move. 

* * * 

To think that some poor fools make out that love is always the same! 

Up till then I had had four lovers, all of which, as I have already 
carefully explained to you, had different ways of making love. My fifth one, 
Karl, also had methods all of his own. 

When we left the restaurant, we drove to a small side street behind the 
Madeleine. We were shown into a comfortable studio by an attractive 
soubrette, who greeted the general as an old and valued customer. 

Having brought up a magnum of champagne, she left us alone. 

Slumping down in a cushy sofa, Karl said: 

"I am so happy to be here, Monique. Come to me." 

Obeying, I came nearer. 

"Don't be afraid, my dear, there is plenty of room on my knees." 

Now, in the presence of my first cash customer, I instinctively acted like a 
brazen prostitute. With a sly smile I said: 

"Karl, you were good enough to offer me this dress which we both like; it 
would be a shame to crease it the very first day I wear it." 

Saying this, I fumbled with the zipper, and it slipped in a cascade of black 
foam to my feet. I stepped out of it and stood revealed in my jet-black 
undies. 

Wasting no more time, I sat down on his lap. 

The same animal look I had noticed before again lit up his face. 

He immediately got hold of my breasts, which he fondled slowly. 

His voice became hoarse. 

"Your undies might also get creased." 

"You are so right!" 

Getting hold of the flimsy material by the bottom, I deliberately slid it up 
my body; then, finally ridding myself of it, I flung it aside. 

As I had no brassiere, the only hindrance left was my black knickers, which 
I had left on to create a favorable first impression. 

The general reacted promptly. Getting a little redder in the face, he drew 
me to him. 

"You're hurting me." 

"I'm sorry." 

My naked breasts had been slightly scratched by the iron cross on his 
uniform. He took off his coat, and to my surprise, putting me in the 
armchair, knelt before me, and with honeyed gestures took off my shoes. 

The contact of his fingers, as soft and precise as a surgeon's about to 
perform an intricate operation, again filled me in a matter of seconds with 
a well-known and beloved sensation of pleasure. 

His hands went wandering over my breasts, carefully massaging their points 
until they stuck out hard and pointed. Then his sensual lips lighted on my 
rigid tits, sucking in with fervor their points, while his teeth nibbled 
them greedily. In a jiffy, my last piece of clothing was thrown off. 

Dropping, down to my ankles, his wandering mouth started to work slowly up 
my legs, lingered there but a moment, then further up to my thighs. 

From his position, his face was hardly six inches from my quim, he could see 
every hair, every luxurious curl that clustered and made exciting the sweet 
mystery that lay beneath. He gently parted the lips of my vagina to get an 
even better view of its rosy softness. Without hesitation his lascivious 
tongue darted into my heavenly chasm, playing with my clitoris for a while, 
but suddenly he clamped his mouth tighter over my gaping aperture, and the 
scorching point of his ever accelerating tongue plunged me into a paroxysm 
of fulfillment. 

In an instant he was naked beside me. 

It was then that I began to be a little frightened. His gentle caresses now 
turned into a cruel frenzy. He got hold of me, lifted me off the armchair 
brutally, and threw me on the nearest divan. 

Then he rolled me over, pinching me all over the back of my body till it was 
black and blue. He continued harder and more brutally in front. I was lost 
in a bewildering, mixture of pain and pleasure. Beating and kneading me with 
increasing vigor, I soon resembled a red-hot oven. This animal heat 
redoubled his frantic desire. 

At last he threw himself on me, but he was in such a state of excitement 
that I had to get hold of his hairy cock to guide it into my lair, where he 
buried it with phallic ardor. Faster and faster, tightly enlaced together, 
we rocked in exhilarating rhythm. 

Groaning and moaning in perfect harmony, we approached the end again and 
again, as despite his apparently uncontrollable vigor, he delayed the 
supreme pleasure of ejaculation as many times as possible. 

Finally we could stand it no longer, and our hot love-juice mingled 
together. 

He was rather a peculiar type. 

Now tender, then fondling, and again brutal. And I was even more surprised 
to notice that we had hardly recovered when he once more became charming, 
even cool and somewhat distant. He was the sort of man who while making love 
resembles a wild beast, but no sooner had he finished than his self-control 
immediately took over, leaving him as unruffled as before. 

 CHAPTER XII Aryan Orgies 

After a short rest and the usual necessary intimate wash, my new lover 
reappeared, smartly turned out in his uniform and looking now very formal: 

"Monique, I have just had excellent proof that you are no beginner at this 
game. That is all very satisfying and enables me to give you certain details 
concerning myself. 

"As you will have noticed, I do like making love in the normal way, but only 
from time to time. On the other hand, I take a lot of pleasure in certain 
practices which are called vices by some narrow-minded fools. In other 
words, I hope to be able to obtain your full cooperation in helping me to 
get certain feelings which might at first seem to you to be a trifle 
abnormal." 

I listened to him in silence, wondering what he meant exactly by what he had 
just said. I was most curious about what was to follow and on the contrary 
was only too glad to be taught something original. So, with a promising 
smile, I agreed enthusiastically. 

He seemed very pleased and concluded: 

"Now we have to get down to practical details. I intend to give you 10,000 
francs a month in order that you should be able to live in comfort with your 
mother. Will that suit you?" 

"Perfectly, thank you!" 

"No need to thank me. Then it is a deal?" 

I thought it rather amusing he should use the word in connection with our 
agreement. I asked: 

"I would like to ask you a personal question; are you by any chance in the 
army as a career?" 

"Yes I am; why?" 

"Because I think that you act more like a businessman than a soldier." 

He burst out laughing. 

"So I have often been told before. I find it a lot more practical to clearly 
define each other's side of the bargain. Do you mind?" 

"On the contrary, I like your frankness." 

"Perfect. There is just one minor point to clear up, however. There is to be 
complete freedom to come and go on both sides. The only thing I don't want 
you to do is to choose your lovers among the officers of the German 
headquarters in Paris. Apart from that, you can do what you like, in the 
same way as I!" 

"That's okay with me." 

"That is what I like to hear, Monique. I believe that we were made to 
understand one another." He drew me to him in a long passionate embrace. I 
responded to his caress. 

"You are a real glutton for sex, aren't you?" 

Saying this, he pushed me aside gently. 

"So I have often been told, and your obedient servant!" 

* * * 

Two or three times we made love in the same way, and I was beginning to 
think that he had forgotten about his abnormal perversions, when one day he 
said: 

"Can you be free for a whole night?" 

"That's asking rather a lot, but I ought to be able to manage till four in 
the morning." 

"Good, in that case if you could make the necessary arrangements I should be 
very pleased." 

"All right, you can count on me." 

I must explain that my mother, as well as being very unpractical, would 
swallow almost anything. As she had of course noticed the improvement in our 
standard of living, I had concocted a charming tale especially for her 
benefit: I had met a couple of German aristocrats at the shop, who helped us 
financially and took me to a show now and again. My venerable mother, as 
long as I moved in the same social sphere, considered it perfectly natural 
that a daughter of Flemish nobility should mix with eminent German court 
circles. 

So she found it quite normal that I should have been invited out by my 
high-flown friends, the following being her only comment: 

"Our family has its rightful place in European society. I hope you have 
fun!" 

She could not have found a better way of putting it: I was in fact going to 
be among my equals, my sparring partners during the night's bout were 
titled. But what a mix-up there was going to be, possibly a cocktail of 
aristocrats, but certainly a salad-bowl of legs, thighs, breasts, buttocks, 
cunts and cocks! 

Karl, faithful to our old routine, turned up at six. We immediately hurried 
to our usual hideout. 

Surprisingly, he got out of uniform and put on a fashionable civilian suit. 
He had hardly finished when three people came in. 

First, two young women in elegant uniform. One was a blonde, slim with 
milky-white skin; she could hardly have been 20. The other was bigger, 
stouter and a brunette. She was about 30. Her pouting breasts were barely 
kept in check by her tight-fitting uniform. Last of all came a very young 
man whom I recognized at once as a lieutenant. 

He came forward to salute the general, smartly bringing his heels together 
with a vigorous bang. 

"Please, Eric, no more soldiering here! As you can see I have taken off my 
uniform and soon everyone will be in civilian clothes. But first, let me 
present you to each other. 

"My dear Monique," went on Karl, turning towards me, "I have great pleasure 
in presenting you to Hilda, Frieda and Eric." 

We exchanged the usual polite greetings. 

Unashamedly, the three visitors began stripping. Hilda took off her coat and 
skirt, only keeping on her scanty pink undies. Her tiny tits pointed out 
under the diaphanous material. Her thin panties underlined the undulating 
curve of her hips, barely covering her pussy. 

Frieda wore a white semi-transparent chemise. Her heavy breasts bored their 
brown tips out aggressively. She did not bother with knickers. She was 
completely naked under her chemise. Her black hairy sex made a sharp 
contrast to the fine white fabric. At last, Eric was also down to his 
underwear. He was a beauty too. 

His creamy-white skin encouraged us to imagine his well-trained muscles, in 
spite of his rather effeminate appearance. Unable to restrain myself, I 
squinted at the growing bulge in his pants. 

Karl noticed this, and asked somewhat ironically: 

"Not bad, is it? Do you like it?" 

I answered with a smile. 

"All the better; you will be able to appreciate its virility at work." 

Frieda came nearer to me and, getting hold of my chin, said to Karl: 

"Isn't she nice?" 

So saying, she placed her hands on my breasts, stroking them, and commented: 

"These are small but well-shaped. Get hold of mine!" 

She guided my hands to her breasts. I had great difficulty in fitting my 
palms around them as they were so ripe. 

Karl cut us short. 

"Come now, take it easy! Get dressed again, you will be able to make up for 
lost time later." 

At this his face lit up with his now familiar bestial expression ... 

We piled into the car and shot off rapidly. I noticed that the driver had 
been replaced by Eric. 

We got to a luxurious mansion near the Etoile. Everybody got out. Karl 
himself opened the gates. There was no one on the premises, not even any 
servants. 

We were soon cozily installed in a large living room, filled with sofas 
running along the wall. There was a well stocked bar, to which we all 
crowded. Drinks to suit every taste, anything from whiskey and vodka to 
champagne and schnapps. After we filled our glasses generously, the party 
began to warm up. Literally, as well as metaphorically, because as all the 
apertures were hermetically sealed, the room being over-heated, Frieda 
shouted out: 

"It's too warm in here. Come on, let's all undress!" 

The actual words she used would probably be better translated in the 
following manner: 

"My cunt is as warm as a furnace; who is going to cool it?" 

No sooner said than done. In an instant she was stark naked. Standing like a 
colossus, legs astride, breasts jutting out, a magnificent figure of a 
woman, she looked the living image of the goddess of love. 

"Well, what are you waiting for?" 

Hilda, with careful delicate movements, rid herself of her superfluous 
apparel. Frieda, welcoming her entry into the arena, gave her a resounding 
thump on her lily-white buttocks. 

"Hurry up, my pet!" 

Her behind took on a vivid hue from Frieda's playful pat, and she smiled 
cunningly. Quickly Frieda ran to Eric. 

"Aren't you ready yet?" 

Saying this, she gave him a hand taking off his trousers, not without first 
groping at the right spot, that is to say, his pants, which she took down 
with growing satisfaction. As I had supposed, Eric was well armed for the 
good fight. 

I turned round to find Karl already bare. Rapidly I compared the two manly 
members. I admit a choice was difficult, if not impossible. But I did not 
have long to make a decision. Frieda, who seemed to have taken charge of the 
proceedings, stood before me: 

"Are you not warm enough, keeping your clothes on?" 

"No," I answered with a laugh. 

"That's just as well! Hilda come and help me undress this namby pamby!" 

Hilda obligingly came over, her whole body undulating in provoking motions, 
like a vicious wildcat. I felt her hands glide over me dexterously, my 
clothes flew in the air, and under the insidious caresses of their expert 
fingers which worked all over my body, I trembled with expectation. 

Not for long! As if I was as light as straw, Frieda picked me up in her 
robust arms and carried me over to the divan, where she lay me down. Then, 
turning towards the two men, she said: 

"We are going to prepare this dainty dish ... to be consumed warm." 

Joining her, Hilda added her efforts to Frieda's, and both of them began to 
kiss and lick me; at first my face, then the lower part of my anatomy. 

In a second or two I was completely gone, and when Frieda buried her head 
against my slit, while Hilda held out her breasts to my mouth, I sunk into 
ecstasy, at first moaning hoarsely, then uttering a piercing cry. 

When I opened my eyes once more, Hilda stared at me intently, her eyeballs 
ready to pop out at any moment, while the two men looked on with ever 
increasing interest, which seemed to flow down to their hardening rods. 
Frieda, now fully worked up and triumphant, administered a hardy slap on my 
buttocks, crying out: 

"Jolly good! You are getting the hang of it, but it's only just started!" 

I was to perceive the truth of this at once! 

Now it was Hilda's turn to take my place on the divan where she offered 
herself up, her tits pointing out, legs wide apart exposing the panorama of 
her pussy. Frieda and I lost no time. Our lips and hands worked overtime on 
her slim white body, taut as the strings of a violin vibrating under our 
masterly flourishes. Suddenly Frieda shoved her over on her belly. Softly at 
first, then more and more violently, rising to a frantic crescendo, she 
smacked her naked posterior. Under her magical touch it became pink, then 
quickly changed to all the colors of the rainbow. A nerve-racking moan 
forced itself out from the depth of her throat as she raved with carnal 
delight under the painfully exhilarating blows. 

Frieda, eyes blazing, redoubled her strokes, and getting hold of Karl's well 
blown-out prick, inserted it in the little martyr's wide-open cunt. Under 
this new crucifixion, Hilda could no longer restrain herself and with long 
drawn-out sighs of agony, she unloosed her flowing torrent. 

I now took an active part in the game. The mistress of ceremonies pushed me 
into Eric's arms. Getting immediately to action stations, he maneuvered me 
to the required position, vigorously knocking his battering-ram against my 
gate, which was only too pleased to grant admittance. Digging in and 
improving his position every moment, his spearhead worked back and forth 
inspecting my outposts. After these preliminary skirmishes, his heavy 
artillery bombarded my headquarters in wave after wave. Under them I was 
forced to an unconditional surrender of erotic passion. 

Frieda, perfect embodiment of satanic lust, was well satisfied with her two 
performing couples, and while she looked on appreciatively, her feverish 
hands were lost in her hairy forest. 

After this was over we had a short break for drinks and a visit to the 
bathroom. During this lull I was able to turn over in my mind the unknown 
forces which could be unleashed by these sexual orgies. During the preceding 
scenes, all outward pretense had been dropped; gone were worldly polish, 
rank, and all the common civilized attributes. We had merely been five 
bodies, five sexes gone back to the superb basic animal pleasures of 
prehistoric times, to which we had added the refined, ever-improving vices 
of modern civilization. 

I had hardly finished this philosophical digression when Frieda called the 
meeting back to order. 

"It's all very well that you four have had your fun, but I have had 
practically none. Hilda and Monique, you will do me the pleasure of 
preparing the other two to satiate my thirst. It's about my turn!" 

We complied only too willingly. 

Hilda leaned over Karl, spread out on the divan. As for myself, I looked 
after Eric with special care. This young man's skin was like velvet and I 
found it delicious to run my fingers and my" lips on his smooth white body. 

I was the first to get Eric to the required point. 

"Stop! Number one is on the ready! Wait a moment, Monique, for number two. 
Right now number two is also beginning to look shipshape!" 

Very satisfied with our groundwork, Frieda looked at us ironically. 

"Now, my little dolls, I'll show you how to satisfy two men at the same 
time. And I won't need any help from you!" 

So saying, she offered herself up to both of them, their pricks almost 
meeting in her, and with superb timing she worked them up to their mutual 
ejaculation, while she herself went off maddeningly. 

The party went on till two a.m. The car at last took me home. Luckily, my 
mother was asleep because despite my youth I could not have looked as fresh 
as a daisy. 

What a night! My first night of real orgy. Drinks and aphrodites! In a few 
hours I had been possessed by two men and kissed, caressed and hugged by two 
women. And what women! Hilda was a delicious little devil with an innocent 
face and perverse tastes. Frieda was a hungry tigress who was never fully 
satisfied. All this ran around in my head like a top, and I fell asleep, 
dizzy with drink and fucking, into dreams full of erotic visions. 

 CHAPTER XIII A Profitable Pastime 

I must admit luck was with me. In a short time, I was promoted from an 
insignificant saleswoman to a wealthy, well-kept lady. 

Karl, as long as I would take part in his parties, usually comprised of five 
or six, as long as he could see me naked among them, was satisfied, and the 
rest of the time was my own. As you can well imagine, I made full use of it 
... 

On one particular night, I saw many well-known people from the theater and 
the cinema, as well as high-ranking German officers and, of course, the 
usual diplomats. 

The evening was marked by its well-bred atmosphere. Still, by about two in 
the morning, people were getting warmed up by the numerous drinks they had 
wolfed down. I found myself the center of attraction next to the bar, and it 
was due to an apparently innocuous incident that I was able to catch my 
first really big fish. 

A high German dignitary, General von Brentano, very impressively, although 
slightly tipsy, proposed a toast to the Fuehrer. 

Everybody stood up, lifted their glasses, and to the sound of clicking heels 
there was a tremendous shout: 

"Heil Hitler!" 

I was the only one not to get up. What got into me? Was it the drinks? Was 
it hitherto unknown patriotism? I don't know. But anyway, without worrying 
about the social faux-pas I was about to commit, in a voice trembling with 
emotion, I also lifted my glass and shouted out in Flemish: 

"Heil de Koning Leopold III!" 

It had the effect of a cold shower on them. But in a sporting way the German 
officers smiled indulgently. 

"She is very young." 

"After all, she is Belgian." 

Conversation went on as before. 

I felt a hand gripping my arm. In his well-cut Luftwaffe uniform, General 
von Brentano asked for the favor of the next dance. 

We danced in silence. My partner kept staring at me intently the whole time. 
When it was over, he took me to a deserted alcove and very gravely said: 

"My dear young lady, I admire your courage. You have got what it takes! To 
dare to cry out your loyalty to your king among so many Germans is an 
impressive performance. Especially in a woman of your tender years, such 
behavior is worthy of the deepest respect. 

So saying, he bowed and kissed my hand. 

* * * 

My new admirer was very different from my other ones. Up to now I had had to 
deal with lovers whose only concern was getting the maximum of pleasure out 
of me. They looked on me as a beautiful doll whose only purpose in life was 
to provide fresh meat for their unquenched desires. Herman von Brentano 
belonged to a different race altogether. He was sentimental. 

In his case, I had to watch myself. Rather than making an exhibition of my 
body, I understood at once that with him I should have to play the role of 
the poor seduced girl who had been forced by circumstances to get someone to 
support her. 

Not a very amusing role! Especially with a fiery temperament like mine, as 
well as a lover like Karl, who was incredibly perverse and who specialized 
in wild orgies. I had begun to get a real kick out of those midnight brawls 
which filled my sleeping hours with visions of numerous naked bodies in 
artistic poses. 

But this new situation was worth it. 

On our first meeting, Herman gave me a check for 10,000 marks. Nothing less 
than a small fortune! And he had not even touched me, except for a 
respectful hand kiss. I think I can say without boasting that I was an 
immediate success at playing the ingnue. I chose exactly the right words to 
describe what a poor unfortunate girl I was, forced to sell myself to 
support my aging mother and to keep the wolf from the door. With a break in 
my voice I gave him my own account of our departure from Bruges, my 
so-called rape in the shelter, my struggle for life, my poor mother who was 
always so ill, etc ... I can assure you that my story was full of pathos. My 
public, which consisted of Herman, swallowed it hook, line and sinker. He 
loaded me with presents and it was only a month later that he worked up 
enough courage to ask me to sleep with him. This he did with infinite tact. 
I could not resist being grateful to him for his gentle handling. When I was 
naked, he looked at me with a sort of religious ardor. He mumbled 
passionately: 

"I love you, you are so beautiful, my darling! It is divine to see you like 
this! How generous you are to give me your youthful body!" 

And all the rest of it. 

He at last decided to lay me on the bed, then took me reverently, still 
carrying on his childish prattle. 

Naturally, like all his kind, he made love just about as clumsily as a bear 
trying to rape the Venus de Milo. I felt absolutely nothing, but took great 
care to make out that I did. This was a good thing, because as we parted, he 
handed me over a draft for 20,000 marks. 

I had fallen on a mug with a capital M! 

But, you may ask, what was happening to Karl, Rene, Suzy and Angela during 
all this? As you can imagine, I was not the sort of woman to be satisfied 
with studying the ceiling while Herman fucked me, without any variations; so 
it was with unadulterated joy that I would get back to my erstwhile bosses. 
Of course, I was no longer working at the perfume shop as I was now Herman's 
official mistress. My mother knew nothing of all this. Luckily she was as 
shortsighted as a bat, as far as my private affairs went. Right in the 
middle of the war, I was dressed like a princess. We now lived in a 
well-furnished apartment near the Chaussee d'Antin. Every day we ate our 
fill of succulent food while about two million people in Paris nearly 
Starved. This, of course, my honorable mother considered perfectly right and 
fitting, owing to our title. 

I also had a comfortable studio on the Champs Elysees where Herman and 
others used to come to see me. This my gray-haired parent knew nothing 
about. 

As for Karl, one or two orgies with Hilda and Frieda now and again kept him 
happy. 

Me too. 

I carefully planned my life of debauchery to procure me money first, then 
luxury, enjoyment and pleasure. 

That is why, for the pleasure of it, I often went to see my former 
employers. When they saw me coming, they would not waste much time. A few 
words of greeting and off we were again. 

Bent over me, kissing me, pawing my breasts, pinching my buttocks, licking 
my juicy cunt, Suzy and Rene fired off numerous questions: 

"Tell us what happened with Karl last time?" 

"Did Frieda tan Hilda's hide?" 

"How did Eric fuck you?" 

"What new sensations did Frieda think of this time?" 

I answered as best I could, giving as many details as possible. These 
appetizing novelties used to put us in the right mood, provoking plenty of 
erections and ejaculations. Now Rene would fill me with his virile manhood 
while Suzy worked on the rest of my body with her lips and hands, now I 
would do the same to her bottomless pit. 

I did not for all that forget Angela. 

With her it was different. I had slept with her, even finding it most 
delectable, but that was not the real reason that I used to meet her again 
at the Casino de Paris or at her flat. 

I never forget a bad turn, nor a good one. 

It was thanks to her and to her friendly advice and guidance that I had got 
out of the rut I had been in the year before. I had a deep feeling of 
affection and gratitude towards her. When I kissed her, it was more in 
thankfulness than with sexual intent. 

Lately she had changed subtly. She, of course, congratulated me on having 
followed her counsels and having changed my way of life, but I felt she was 
more than a little put out when I used to talk of my German lovers. 

One day, angrily, she blurted out: 

"You only sleep with collaborators or Germans!" 

I was astounded. I never had stopped to think of it in that way. Fate had 
thrown a German officer into my life as my first financial lover, and it had 
followed naturally that I had continued my exploitation of the same circle 
of people. I had not bothered to look any further. I was not interested in 
politics, but I understood at once that Angela was almost certainly in the 
resistance, and very definitely anti-German; no doubt she listened 
punctually to the BBC every day. 

Soon she was to be satisfied, because I was to have a new lover who was 
neither a German nor collaborated with them. 

 CHAPTER XIV Black-Market Scavengers 

My present lovers, being in the army, were not available all the time. In 
fact, they were only free at night, as their mornings and afternoons were 
taken up with their duties. 

This suited me perfectly, as it left me all day to do what I pleased. 

It was February, 1943. The sun was already getting to be warm, and I felt 
like going for a walk. So I went to the Concorde, then strolled up the 
Champs Elysees. Dressed in a well-cut black suit, an expensive fur thrown 
over my shoulders, I sauntered along, clicking my heels on the hard 
bituminous surface of that famous thoroughfare. I intended to go and have a 
drink at the Lido. As I walked along, nonchalantly swinging my hips, I 
day-dreamed of how far I had gone in the last year. My sizable bank account, 
my jewels, my furs, my numerous luxurious dresses, in fact all that made up 
my present well-being flashed through my brain. It may be a good thing to 
think while you are walking, but it is even better to stop doing so when you 
cross the road. 

However, coming to the corner of the Avenue Victor Emmanuel III, I stepped 
onto the road, lost in thought. With the result that there was a shriek of 
brakes and an angry voice cried out: 

"Why can't you be more careful, you silly little fool?" 

I stopped in my tracks, barely an inch from the bumper, taking in the fact 
that it was due to providence that I was not now under the car. The voice 
went on: 

"Are you going or coming, you silly ass?" 

He was going too strong for my liking, so, without budging an inch, I flung 
back at him: 

"Can't you be a little more polite, you ill-behaved road-hog!" 

As you can see, in two years, the little Flemish girl had now got a good 
working knowledge of the French language. 

While we exchanged these mutual compliments, we looked intently at one 
another. I got a good view of him, and he an even better one of me. With the 
result that he got out of his car, and now smiling attractively at me, he 
said: 

"I beg your pardon, my dear lady, I was a little rude. But you must admit 
that if I had not stopped dead, you would have been even deader." 

"I agree I was in the wrong, but I do find your language a trifle overdone!" 

"Let's say we were both to blame, and I beg your pardon. In order to make it 
up to you, let me offer you a drink." 

Still laughing, he got hold of my arm and started pulling me towards his 
car. 

He certainly was not lacking in cheek! 

I was going to protest when a copper chimed in: 

"What goes on here? Do you think I am going to let you park at the corner of 
this avenue for long? Don't you know it's forbidden? Get going, otherwise 
you'll get a fine!" 

My companion took this opportunity to shove me without further ado into his 
car, slam the door, start up, and off we went. 

We left behind us the figure of the portly policeman, shrugging his 
shoulders and waving his baton in all directions. 

Racing up the avenue, he burst out in loud laughter saying: 

"As you can see, my beautiful lady, you have caused me a lot of bother. You 
nearly threw yourself under my car, and then to crown it all you almost got 
me a fine. You will have to try and make me forgive you for it!" 

"What do you mean? How dare you?" 

"I do, and I repeat: you will have to make up for it. That is to say to 
begin with you are going to come along nicely and have a drink with me; 
after that ... we shall see!" 

"I don't know that I have anything to be forgiven for, but what I do know is 
that you are incredibly cheeky!" 

"I couldn't agree with you more my dear. It is, as a matter of fact, one of 
my principle qualities, and believe me it is very useful in life." 

"To force women to get into your car?" 

"Me, force you to get in? Not at all. The proof of it is that you climbed in 
willingly. There was a policeman near us, and you only had to say a word to 
get me arrested by this dignified representative of law and order, if you 
had wanted to." 

What could I do with a specimen like that? Laugh. That is exactly what I 
did. Naturally, he took immediate advantage of this to put his hand on my 
knee, which he fondled artistically. Then I felt that he was going to work 
up higher along my thighs, without any warning. 

"Really, you nearly ran me over a while ago; it is quite unnecessary to 
start again. Two hands are not too many to drive with, especially in your 
case." 

"That is where you are mistaken. One is quite enough; the other one can be 
otherwise employed. I am used to it." 

"I don't doubt it for a moment, but right now leave my legs alone. Or else I 
will get out!" 

"You wouldn't do that to a well brought-up fellow like me, so kind and 
gentle, so ... " 

Suddenly his lips stuck to mine. There was only one of two things to be 
done: either I gave him a resounding smack or I returned his kiss. I chose 
the better solution, as he was beginning to amuse me. He had the presence of 
mind to slow down, and, moreover, in 1943 there were not many cars on the 
road. It was just as well, because his kiss went on endlessly. It went on so 
long that my tongue also began searching his mouth and I felt a sudden heat 
come over my whole body. 

I sighed when he let me go at last. He again laughed, uncovering his 
splendid ivory-white teeth, and getting more and more cynical. 

"Not bad going for a man still driving with the other hand, don't you 
think?" 

"I'll agree with you there! But you have a colossal amount of cheek; you 
must have had more than your share when you were born." 

"Too true. But that is not all; I am also full of other attractive 
qualities. For instance, I am gallant, kind, thoughtful and amorous ... " 

"Is that the lot?" 

"Not at all! I am especially well-intentioned towards lovely women like 
you." 

"You certainly seem to be in love with yourself!" 

"I adore myself, and you above all!" 

With that he got hold of my waist, let his hand creep up to my breast, then 
gently pinched its nipple. 

This time, he nearly lost control of his car, but managed to straighten out 
in time, enabling me to get loose from his grip. 

"Please, I beg you, stop! You are going to kill us! Let's go and have a 
drink if you like, but I have no intention of committing suicide, even if 
you have." 

Filled with self-confidence, he let me go and with an air of assurance went 
on. "You are right, we had better stop; we can make closer contact later." 

He stopped. Here was a man who knew where he was going! 

He had just missed killing me at three o'clock that afternoon, and at six I 
was in bed with him in his flat near the Etoile. 

We had hardly sat down to have our drink at the cafe, when he at once told 
me without beating about the bush, that he had no doubt I should soon be 
fucked by him. During this conversation he was pawing me conscientiously. He 
even managed to slide his hand under my dress, reaching my V spot, which he 
had knowingly fondled. All this without the waiter or several customers 
nearby noticing anything. 

As always, I could not oppose such strong arguments. 

Half an hour later he was undressing me, still laughing and messing about. 
Soon he was in his birthday suit, obviously highly satisfied with his body 
and in particular his whacking prick. At last I felt him in me, vigorously 
thrusting his monster in and out, threading it again and again in my cunt, 
but never moving in all the way. I fitted him like a glove. Soon my whole 
fucking ass was trembling and I caught the rhythm just right, pushing back 
against him each time his cock started to dig in. I was doing it so well 
that I could feel he was having trouble keeping his load back before I was 
ready. Somehow he managed it, and we both let rip together, moaning and 
shaking in perfect harmony. 

Afterwards, lying by his side smoking the inevitable cigarette, I stretched 
languorously. My new lover, still enjoying himself, instinctively kneaded my 
hardened tits as he declared: 

"Darling, you are a real wonder!" 

"Me?" 

"Yes, you make love just the way I like it; you are a walking encyclopedia 
of copulation!" 

That night, alone in my bed, I asked myself why had I slept with the fellow? 
Partly because he had awakened my senses, but the main reason was that he 
amused me. He was gay and full of life, cynical without being boorish, 
amazingly cheeky, and his joy of living appealed to my youth. 

All my German customers were always just so, but their refined politeness 
and their worldly gallantry only made me appreciate my light-hearted, 
attractive friend all the more. How long this would last, I had not the 
slightest idea. Come to think of it, what was his name? I had not even 
bothered to ask him. Next day I saw him and obtained the missing 
information: 

"John L-, 36 years old, at your service. What's yours?" 

"Monique P-, 19, all yours for the taking." 

"I did not expect anything less from you. Thank you. Let's have a good 
fuck?" 

"Why not!" 

You can imagine that with a partner of his ability, time flew. 

He made love like he did everything else, joking and laughing. He was not 
especially perverted. He gave and took his pleasure without many subtle 
refinements. But one of his chief qualifications was his well-built anatomy, 
more particularly the bit of it he stuck into me. I can assure you that when 
he fucked me I was well and truly ripped apart. He knew it, and naturally 
joked about it. 

"Look how lucky you are to have such a wonder fitting in your hole! 
Seriously, though, have you ever seen anything to be compared with my 
majestic member?" 

"You fool!" 

"On the contrary, take a good look, and you must admit that I am a really 
splendid specimen of human nature." 

Carefully examining the object of our discussion with my hand I had to agree 
he was right. 

"Now that you have been able to get a good idea for yourself, I am going to 
prove to you that not only is it good looking but also very useful." This he 
would proceed to do, without further ado. 

All this, I repeat, was very amusing without going any further. But Angela's 
advice now came back to me: "To get ahead you must get the maximum out of 
men." 

It being so, should I consider him as an agreeable pastime, or try to make 
use of him? 

He himself was to furnish the key to my problem. 

After several meetings, he showed me his private hideout in which, to my 
amazement, was stored a small fortune in scarce commodities. Everything from 
coffee and sugar to cigarettes and whiskey. 

Still laughing, he said: 

"Hold out your arms." 

Then he loaded me up with some of those rare items. 

I bent under their weight. 

"Enough, enough. I cannot carry all that!" 

Condescendingly he helped me, while playfully patting my arse. 

"Take as much as you can carry." 

He did not have to say it twice. When my mother opened the door to me, she 
widened her eyes unbelievingly. She had not seen anything like it for years. 
My realistic side again gaining the upper hand, I made an inventory of what 
he had given me. If I had bought it in the black market, it would have cost 
me at least 25,000 francs. 

He was getting to be interesting! 

That is why our idyll went on. John was an intelligent black marketeer. 
Gaining confidence in me, he explained: 

"You see, darling, now I have reached an understanding. I was called up in 
1939, when I was sent on the Maginot Line. Then when the Panzer Divisions 
and the Messerschmidts fell down on our ill-equipped and demoralized army, I 
considered the war lost. All the same, I did what I was told, that is to say 
nothing. The net result was that I was taken prisoner. At the stalag I 
learned indirectly that our little pals back home in Paris were making piles 
of money, while we were rotting in the prison camps. So I also decided to 
make a packet. The first thing to do, was to get back home. So I made out I 
was sick, and in consequence, at the end of 1941, I got back. 

"As soon as I was free, I started to deal in cigarettes, ersatz, of course." 

"So that is what they are! You can keep your filthy fags!" 

"Don't worry, the ones I gave you are real, same as the ones I smoke." 

"That's better, thank you." 

"That's all right. For the moment I don't want to poison you. So with what I 
made out of cigarettes, I was able to expand my trade and now I deal in all 
sorts of other things." 

"Are you very rich?" 

"Not at all, I have not a bean. But I live riotously for the moment; after 
the war we shall see what happens!" 

My joyful lover jumped over the sofa, laid me down on it and, exhibiting his 
pride and joy, invited me to taste it, assuring me that this at least was no 
ersatz. 

I gulped it down greedily, my hands cupping his balls. 

 CHAPTER XV Intrigues 

One morning after a particularly strenuous party I woke up at about eleven. 
I felt pleasantly refreshed. I yawned lazily, then stretched out 
voluptuously. Pushing back the sheets, with a wondering eye I roamed over my 
naked body. Needless to say, I always slept stark naked. Mechanically I 
fondled my breasts, my perfectly smooth belly, my well-shaped hips, and 
smiled with satisfaction. 

In a while it took me back to all those other roving fingers which had 
played out their symphony on my anatomy. These memories, helped by my expert 
fingers, were just about to send me off, when the doorbell rang. 

Damn it, this was no time to interrupt me! I took my fingers from my furry 
nest, already full of love juice, licked them dry, and waited. I had not the 
slightest wish to open up. Then the bell rang again imperatively. 

Getting fed up with the noise, I put on a dressing gown and went to see who 
it was. 

A young girl stood before me. 

"Are you Miss Monique?" 

"That's right, what do you want?" 

Hesitating, the girl whispered almost inaudibly: 

"I am a chorus girl at the Casino de Paris, and come from Angela." 

"Very well, come in," I said, my ill-humor vanishing at once. "It's a long 
time since I have seen Angela; tell me, how is she?" 

My visitor was obviously shaken. She seemed to be scared. 

"Why don't you answer me? Has some misfortune befallen her?" 

"Yes." 

It was an unpleasant shock. 

"Oh! Is she dead?" 

"No ... but ... " 

"Cough it up, girl! What's the matter with her?" 

"She was arrested three days ago!" 

"What for?" 

The young messenger looked at me bewildered, and repeated: 

"I tell you she was arrested by the Gestapo!" 

I was beginning to get the hang of it: it all added up, General de Gaulle's 
portrait, the BBC broadcasts and Angela's hatred of the Germans and those 
who worked with them. She was in the resistance and had gotten pinched. 

"By the Gestapo?" 

"Yes, and I came to see you because some time ago, Angela said to me: 

" 'Things are getting hot for me, I can feel their nets closing in. If ever 
I get arrested, go and see Monique van P-. She has good connections among 
the German high command and maybe in remembrance of what I did for her in 
the past, she will be willing to use her influence in my favor.' That is all 
there is to it; Angela has been taken so I came over." 

"You did well, because I never forget a good turn. Angela dragged me out of 
the mud, and now I am going to repay her. Have you any idea of what I can do 
to be of most use?" 

"Come at once to see the head of our organization." 

At first, I could not understand what she was talking about, then, abruptly, 
it dawned on me. She thought I was also in the resistance and that I was in 
Angela's complete confidence. I made my position clear at once. 

"I don't mind trying to save Angela, but I know nothing of your underground 
activities." 

Unfortunately, I had spoken too quickly! 

The apparently anodyne girl was from one moment to the next transformed into 
a determined woman. With a violent gesture she drew out a pistol, which she 
pointed menacingly in my direction, and shouting brutally: 

"Hands up, and be quick about it or you are a dead duck. So you are not 
Monique van P-, and now that I have told you everything, you are going to 
denounce us! I am going to ... " 

I cut in immediately, because I felt that this fury was going to fill me 
with bullets at point-blank range. 

"Please, I am Monique, Angela is my friend and I do want to save her!" 

Still jutting out her dangerous little toy in my direction, she cut in: 

"Where does Angela live?" 

"Rue Royal." 

"What was her last part at the Casino?" 

"She was the leading lady, and it was called 'Naked in the Stars.' I may 
also add that she has a brown beauty spot just below her left breast about 
the size of a five-franc piece." 

This time I had struck the right note. She lowered her revolver. 

"Can I put my hands down now?" 

"Not yet." 

What a terror! I was beginning to be tired. To add to this discomfort, my 
dressing gown had opened out, giving my would-be killer a complete panorama 
of my entirely bare body. 

This, however, did not particularly inconvenience me, nor her, come to think 
of it, now that her anger was cooling down. Anyhow, she went on: 

"So you are not one of us?" 

"No." 

Rapidly I explained in a few words why I knew Angela, and why I owed her so 
much. I had won! 

"I beg your pardon, but we have to be so careful; the Gestapo is forever on 
our tracks, so ... " 

"Now, can I put my hands down?" 

"Yes." 

The raging witch of a moment ago had again become a harmless girl. 

"Thank you very much; I was beginning to have enough of your physical 
exercises. Now that you have quite finished your childish gunplay, let us 
sit down and talk like friends. First, would you like a cup of coffee?" 

"Certainly, thank you." 

It was ready in a few minutes, and as I was hungry, we also had biscuits and 
cakes. My young visitor's face lit up with pleasure, as I could see. Being a 
chorus girl at the Casino de Paris and a member of the resistance was not 
the ideal way to get a good feed in wartime. She was as hungry as a bear. 

"You wanted to blow me to smithereens, but I can't blame you for it. Here, 
have some more cake!" 

"But ... " 

"Now, now, let us not get formal; go on, take some!" 

Before you could say Jack Robinson, she had wolfed down the lot. Now that 
she was smiling, she even looked quite appetizing. 

"Now we can go and see your boss." 

"Yes, let's go, he will be able to tell you what to do." 

"Very well, in that case I shall now get dressed." I got up, and discarding 
my dressing gown, provocatively naked I stared her full in the face. A 
troubled look came into her eyes. Well now! It was then that I remembered 
what I had been doing when she came in. Why shouldn't she help to give me 
the pleasure I had sought alone? It would be more fun that way. 

Still with nothing on, I flitted around her, pretending to dress. Her eyes 
never left me for an instant. Suddenly she asked: 

"How do you know that Angela has a beauty spot below her breast?" 

I smiled. 

"Because I have slept with her. What about you?" 

She hesitated, then spoke up. 

"Me too." 

I could not forego such a unique opportunity. I got nearer to her, stuck my 
naked body to her, while tantalizingly holding one of my breasts towards her 
mouth, and questioned her hopefully: 

"Don't you want to do it with me?" 

"Yes, I do!" 

Her avid mouth took my hardened tit and sucked it greedily. In a flash I was 
on her, ripping aside her flimsy dress, then dragging her to the center of 
the room as naked as a worm. Having put the wireless on, which was playing 
soft dance music, we started to dance together, bodies pressed firmly to 
each other's, breasts against breasts, mouth to mouth and cunt to cunt. Our 
hips moved together in harmony, and she quickly lost her initial fear and 
wonder, her body reacting vigorously to my passionate undulating movements 
and the beat of the music. 

I pulled her down energetically to the rug. She fell naturally into a 
position on all fours, enabling me to slip my body under hers so that my 
mouth was at her cunt and her spread legs offered themselves to my lips. We 
moved into each other immediately, and I clutched her rosy buttocks while my 
tongue fitted at the damp lips that spread their treasure before me. Her 
arms were firmly gripped around my back as she buried her head between my 
wide open legs. Soon she flopped down completely upon me. Our lips and 
tongues continued licking and sucking at each other's cunts. 

Then I was again on my feet, but only in order to be able to dig my fingers 
into her bush, pushing them deep into her pouting lips, and then out again, 
as she lay on her back, arms flung out. We continued sucking, grabbing, and 
probing into each other, till we were once more sprawled out on the rug in a 
sixty-nine, and as the music played louder and louder we worked at each 
other more and more frenziedly. Then we came as the music ended in a 
crescendo, our bodies writhing and squirming in an exploding orgasm. 

"That's better; now I am afraid we shall have to get down to more serious 
matters!" 

We dressed quickly and went out. 

"Where are you taking me!" 

"You will see." 

She led me to the nearest metro. It is superfluous to say that being a 
general's mistress I had all the necessary passes delivered by the German 
forces: Aussweis, permission to go about during the curfew, a permit for 
requisitioning taxis, etc ... That is why I wanted to call one over. She 
objected, saying that it was not safe, so we took the metro. We got off at 
the Porte de Vincennes. There she went into a small grocer, where after a 
short conversation with the owner, we got into a small van. And what a van! 
Dating back to the 1914 war, it looked more like a nissen hut than a vehicle 
fit to get people about. In any case, if the driver's idea in driving round 
the Bois de Vincennes had been to make me lose my sense of direction so that 
I had no inkling of where we were, he succeeded perfectly. 

Soon we stopped in front of a small villa, lost in the woods. We got out and 
a middle-aged man opened the door. He was a brutish-looking character, who 
showed us into an office where a distinguished-looking individual was busy 
writing at his desk. He looked up and greeted my companion in a familiar 
way: 

"Good morning, Mado!" 

So that was her name; it was the first time I had heard it. 

He turned towards me. 

"Is your name Monique van P-?" 

"Yes," I said, "Miss Monique van P-," stressing the Miss. 

He understood and smiled. 

"Miss, if you insist, we need your help." 

"I know." 

"So Mado has put you in the picture?" 

"Yes." 

"In that case ... " 

Just at that moment the evil-looking fellow who had opened the door stalked 
into the room. He was beginning to get on my nerves, and I must have got on 
his, because he shot me a ferocious glare. 

My expensive clothes and good looks were obviously not to his liking. 

He cut in on the man sitting behind the desk. 

"Miss indeed! My blooming foot! This painted doll won't come back, boss, you 
can see that she is one of them, and she will give us up. Let me search her 
... " 

The gorilla approached me. 

The dry, metallic voice of his chief nailed him where he was. 

"Come here, I say! Get back to your place behind me and shut up! Now to go 
on: Miss, you are a friend of Angela and it is in your power to save her." 

"That is why I am here." 

"I know, the problem is that at the moment Angela is a prisoner in a 
well-guarded German prison, where we can't do anything. But in exactly three 
days she is to be taken to Fontainebleau to be judged and no doubt condemned 
to death, or deported to Germany, which comes to the same thing. A black 
maria will make the transfer from where she is now to the Gare de Lyon. In 
order to get to Fontainebleau she is to be taken in a special truck attached 
to a merchandise train. During the journey we are going to free her, 
together with three other prisoners. Our difficulty is to get word to her. 
You are the only one who can get permission from the Gestapo to visit her. 
When you get to her cell you will give her this cigarette. Inside it we have 
written all she has to do on very fine paper. But I warn you that during the 
whole time of your visit you will be constantly watched by two policemen who 
will observe your every move. The rest is up to you." 

"I will try." 

He held out his hand, smiling: 

"Good luck!" 

The hairy ape showed us out, and if looks could have killed I would have 
dropped dead on the spot. 

An hour later I was back at my place with Mado. 

We again had coffee and cakes, after which I questioned her: 

"So you are a chorus girl at the Casino; I gather you don't earn much?" 

"No, not a lot." 

"I see, and you are also in the underground movement?" 

"I hate the Germans!" 

"That is your business, and even if you are only spurred on by an ideal, it 
is all very right and proper. Only, when you are young and beautiful, it's a 
crime not to profit by it. Do you follow me?" 

"I understand, but I want to be faithful to my fiance Albert, who also works 
at the Casino." 

"In that case, I won't insist." 

"Monique, I would like to ... " 

"What?" 

She came nearer, cuddling up to me. "Like we did this morning!" 

"Well, after all, why not?" 

In a jiffy we were both completely nude and once again our greedy fingers 
and lips tasted the delicious caresses of lesbian intercourse. 

After we had dressed again I said: 

"You just said, you wouldn't be unfaithful to Albert for money, didn't you?" 

"I would not dream of it!" 

"But you have just been lying with me. What do you say to that?" 

"That's entirely different; it wasn't for payment and you are a woman!" 

What a girl! I could not make heads or tails of her. 

* * * 

Enough play; we had to get down to business. I had to get hold of a permit 
to visit Angela. Who should I ask? Karl or Herman? Then I had an idea; why 
shouldn't I ask Hilda, with whom I was on excellent terms, quite apart from 
our nightly fun and games. 

At ten o'clock I waited for her outside the Majestic. When she appeared, 
very dignified and prim in her tight-fitting uniform, I could not restrain a 
smile. Who indeed, seeing her now, would have willingly believed that this 
proud woman loved to be whipped naked by Frieda and fucked in all sorts of 
different ways, often by two men at once. 

When she saw me, she greeted me effusively. 

I got straight to the point. 

"Hilda, I want to ask you a favor." 

"With pleasure, anything you say." 

As we strolled along I told her that Angela was a great friend of mine, and 
that I needed a permit to visit her to bring her what comfort I could. 

She let me go on, then gripping my arm more tightly, her face now as hard as 
bronze, her voice becoming harsh and authoritative, she remonstrated me: 

"Monique, I don't believe you realize what you are asking me to do? First, 
only the Gestapo can give you what you want, and I don't belong to it. Even 
if I could, I wouldn't. I am a German; you cannot really expect me to help 
the terrorists. Your friend Angela is in the resistance, and a fervent enemy 
of the mighty Reich and the Fuehrer. Don't count on me to belie the trust he 
has in me. If your friend had been sent to prison for any other reason, such 
as black-marketeering, I could have helped you, but I would sooner cut my 
throat than help a woman like that!" 

I saw she was mad at me, so I did not insist. I now went to see Karl. He was 
more understanding, but he confirmed Hilda's words. 

"Political prisoners belong to the Gestapo; I cannot do anything for you. As 
you may know, the Gestapo and the Werhmacht are not exactly on intimate 
terms. Still, if you really must see the woman, see Otto Bugaerts, one of 
the high prison officials. You can always try, anyway." 

"Thank you very much." 

"Not at all. Let me give you another piece of advice, don't put on any 
underwear, as Otto is often willing to do something for you if you do 
something for him in return. I guess you understand?" 

"Certainly." 

"Nine times out of ten, as he is always in a hurry, he signs the permits 
standing up next to his desk. In so doing he could easily tear your knickers 
if you had any on, do you catch on?" 

"Thanks for the information. I'll make good use of it!" 

* * * 

A quarter of an hour later, a taxi dropped me off outside the Gestapo. I was 
stopped at the door: 

"Where do you think you are going?" 

"To see Otto Bugaerts. I am a friend of Suzanne L-." 

The name of the German ambassador's wife had an immediate effect. A couple 
of minutes later I was respectfully shown into his private sanctum. 

"I hear you are a friend of Fraulein Suzanne L-." 

"Yes, I am, I even had the pleasure of seeing you at a party she gave two 
years ago." 

It was perfectly true. I had recognized him at once. He had not recognized 
me but was polite and pretended he had. 

"Ah yes, of course." 

"I have come to ask you a favor." 

I went over my speech again. 

At that, his attitude altered. 

"Do you know that Angela Colet is a dangerous terrorist?" 

"I know nothing about that; I only wanted to see her as a friend." 

"I believe you, but political prisoners are held incommunicado ... " 

As he went on, I remembered what Karl had told me, and, with expert 
gestures, I crossed my legs, thus pulling up my skirt as high as possible 
and enabling him to see right up my pussy. The effect was immediate, I 
noticed his face light up with sadistic pleasure. Now I unloosed my big 
guns! 

I got up, and leaning on purpose above his desk I gave him an eyeful of my 
breasts, as I never wear brassieres and my dress had a plunging neckline. 

While showing them adroitly, I murmured softly: 

"I would so like to see her ... " 

He also got up, and now as red as a beetroot, came round towards me and, 
taking me by the waist, blurted out: 

"You will be nice to me if I give you your permit, won't you?" 

My only answer was to reach for his penis, bulging out under his uniform. 

That did it! 

He shoved me on the desk, whipped up my dress and violently dug into me, all 
in the fraction of a second. Rapidly digging further in, he grunted once or 
twice like a hog, then, satisfied, came out again. 

There was a man who wasted no time! Straightening out my dress I thought 
again about what Karl had told me: "No panties and you get your signature." 
He was so right. 

Meanwhile, my famished ravisher had again become a rigid member of the 
Gestapo, putting his seal on my permit. While handing it over with one hand, 
his other arm shot out into the air as he cried out, "Heil Hitler!" I smiled 
graciously in return. 

* * * 

That is why on the next day I was able to get into the prison. Two policemen 
in plain clothes politely guided me to Angela's cell. 

One of them told me that they would be present during our interview and that 
if I wished to give anything to her I must first of all hand it over to 
them. 

I had intentionally brought bread, chocolate and oranges. The two jailers 
carefully investigated them, afterwards handing them over to the prisoner. I 
tried to kiss her, but they intervened at once: 

"It is forbidden to touch the prisoner, Miss!" 

"All right." 

I did not press the matter and went on making small talk with Angela. 

All of a sudden, I opened my bag, got out my cigarette case, and took one. 
Then feigning to have forgotten, with my most gracious smile I offered some 
to the two men. 

They hesitated, saying they were on duty. 

"We are alone here, no one will notice." 

Finally they accepted, allowing me to throw one over to her. 

The two men had by now lit theirs and mine. 

"What about my friend?" 

Then in a flash, I took the first cigarette I had in my mouth and threw it 
over, with a broad wink to Angela, taking care to turn my back to the two 
policemen. 

I prayed she would understand! 

She had. I saw her light the second cigarette with the first which she kept, 
now out, in her hand. 

I was successful in my mission, the rest was now out of my hands. 

 CHAPTER XVI The Wehrmacht Versus The Gestapo 

Highly pleased with my performance, I went home. I had paid my debt to 
Angela and felt I had earned a rest. 

It had not been very easy, and the acrobatics with Otto had not been in any 
way pleasant. 

Now that I came to think of it, it was the first time I had felt nothing 
while a man fucked me. He had hardly begun to have any effect on me when it 
was already all over, leaving me unsatisfied. I decided to make up for this 
small inconvenience as soon as possible, and to relieve my nervous system 
with someone who knew his business and, if possible, was at the same time 
gay and full of life. 

John! Obviously, exactly what the doctor ordered. 

So the next day I phoned him. He was not at home. I then tried Sirio's, 
where he generally hung out, and managed to get hold of him. 

"Is that you, John?" 

"Yes, who is speaking?" 

"One of your mistresses." 

"Good, which one?" 

"Monique." 

"Monique, I was just thinking about you." 

"Me too." 

"I adore you." 

"Same here. Come over to see me." 

"What, now? Do you need me?" 

"Yes, you personally." 

"You flatter me. Which part of my body do you need in particular?" 

"All of it, but I will hang up now; as it is forbidden to use obscene 
language on the telephone, we might get cut off. I will be waiting for you." 

Twenty minutes later he rang, kissed me hurriedly, then, without speaking 
but doubled up with laughter, he began to undress. 

"What is the matter with you?" 

"Monique, I guess that today you need all my charm as well as my great big 
cock and my sex appeal. As I am a good guy ... " 

"Come off it! Is that all?" 

"No, you are attracted by my extraordinary sexual accomplishments, which I 
can quite understand, but you don't do so badly yourself." 

"You fool!" 

"So, in order to satisfy your wishes, I am getting into my work clothes; 
that is, none at all. Anyway, what are you waiting for?" 

In a jiffy he rid me of my dressing gown, and this joyful Adam carried his 
Eve to the sofa, where he got on top of her. 

He, at least, knew how to make love. His mouth and his hands worked busily 
all over my anatomy. They wrenched my buttocks apart, exposing the soft 
downy slit and the little temple of illicit love, round and pretty as a 
rose. His whacking great cock stuck into the awaiting crevice, driving deep 
to my roots. In and out he rocked as I responded gratefully to his 
penetrating monster. Again and again, it shot into me, as every tissue was 
crying out for punishment. My cavern was now voraciously awaiting each 
entrance like a tiger about to spring on its prey. I tightened around his 
slithering member, bringing unbearable pressure on it, till it exploded into 
me. My grasping tentacles did not allow him to leave my fountain of love 
till I had pumped him dry. 

After an instant of rest, he dexterously jumped down to the carpet, and 
still hugely enjoying himself, exhibited his now satisfied tool, saying: 

"What a beauty. Monique, you are a lucky girl!" 

Half laughing, half convinced, I could only answer: 

"You have rather a good opinion of yourself, but apart from that I reckon 
you know how to fuck." 

"I have been aware of that for some time! Right now I am famished. Get 
dressed so that we can have a good meal." 

With that, my genial joker, patting me on my behind, sent me off to the 
bathroom. I had been wise to have this little distraction because the next 
few days were to be highly eventful. 

After he had left me, my senses now satisfied, I lay on my bed, which looked 
like a battlefield, and rested, reading a good book. Once again I was 
interrupted by that damned bell ringing. Not very pleased, I went to open. 
Who should I see but Mado. She looked very excited and embraced me 
effusively. 

"We have done it!" 

"What?" 

"Angela is free! She escaped!" I had nearly forgotten all about this in the 
arms of my ardent lover. 

"How did it go?" 

"It could not have been better!" 

Volubly, she gave me all the details. 

Having finished her story, still trembling with joy, she cuddled up to me 
and shamelessly she slid her hand into my dress and fondled my breasts. 

Gently I pulled her away. I did not feel like having a woman today. 

"No, darling, not now. I don't feel in the mood." 

Mado pouted like a disappointed child. 

I showed her out, telling her I should make up for it another time. 

Relieved, I again took up my book. 

Not for long! The telephone rang once more. 

"Is that you, Monique?" 

I recognized Herman's grave voice. 

"My dear child, I have a couple of hours on my hands, and with your 
permission I should like to come and spend them with you." 

What a bore! Unfortunately, it was difficult to refuse such a well-furnished 
wallet. 

"I await the pleasure of your visit, my dear Herman!" 

Some minutes later, my sentimental lover was kissing me tenderly. I again 
had to listen to an interminable flow of tender, devoted words. Truly this 
courteous man would have been perfect for a young and sentimental young 
girl. However, that sort of thing was hardly in my line. I knew that after 
his poetical discourse the General would at last feel the need to handle my 
well-molded figure. I wished he would get on with it as soon as possible. 
That is why, while listening smilingly to his honeyed words, without 
appearing to do so, I maneuvered my dressing gown in order to show off my 
breasts at the same time I crossed my legs provokingly. The presence of my 
naked flesh had the hoped-for effect on the lyrical General. 

He came nearer, and still carrying on his barrage of talk, stroked my tits. 
This got him going. Still smiling, I got up, and letting my gown fall to my 
feet, I offered him the whole works. Now he really got started. He took me 
in his arms, laying me tenderly down on the sofa. 

He undressed, then joined me. 

The proceedings were getting well under way. 

With this customer there was nothing for it. I had to pretend to feel 
something, as I did not in the least thrill to his clumsy technique. 

Legs apart, I had to help the General to achieve his end, while pretending 
to enjoy it. 

Having reached his goal, he would pant, out of breath, as if he had climbed 
up the Empire State Building, wasting his energy whispering tender phrases: 

"My dear love, my pretty doll. It is heaven to possess you! I adore you!" 

And it went on and on. Instead of driving me crazy with his baby talk, he 
would have done better to have hurried up to reach his climax. 

At last he came. In a very polite way, I let out a few sighs to make him 
happy. 

This interlude over, I was in the bathroom when the bell rang again. 

Who could it be? I hoped it was neither Karl nor Eric. 

Its shrill sound continued to pierce the air. I got some clothes on, then 
went to open the door. 

I stood rooted to the ground with terror when I saw on the doorstep a member 
of the dreaded Gestapo accompanied by two policemen. 

"Miss Monique van P-?" 

"Yes, that's right." 

"Polizei!" 

They came in. 

"You are under arrest, but before going we are going to search this place." 

I stayed open-mouthed, absolutely incapable of uttering a single word. 

Suddenly they froze to attention. 

General Herman von Brentano, standing stiffly in his bemedalled uniform, 
questioned them briefly: 

"I heard everything. Why have you come here? Is it to arrest this young 
woman?" 

"Yes Herr General." 

"On whose authority?" 

"General, I have a warrant for her arrest." 

"But who made it out?" 

"Obersturmfuhrer Reder of the SS." 

"I am General H. von Brentano of the Paris High Command. This young lady is 
under my personal protection. Get out!" 

"Herr General, I am afraid I have to carry out my orders. I only accept 
orders from my direct superior, Obersturmfuhrer Reder." 

The General straightened up even more, then cuttingly replied: 

"As a General of the Wehrmacht, I order you to clear out this instant!" 

The SS hesitated. Obviously he was working out his next move. He was, of 
course, perfectly in his right, but on the other hand the General was a 
personal friend of the Military Governor. Cunningly, he got out of it. 

"General, I did not know you were here. I shall have to go to see my 
superior. In the meantime, I will leave both my men here, so that the lady 
will not be able to leave before I come back." 

The General, as a soldier, had to give a good example, so he could do 
nothing but agree. 

With that the SS disappeared. 

Herman drew me towards him and questioned me in a whisper: 

"What have you done, Monique, to get the Gestapo after you?" 

I explained briefly, naturally omitting the part about the cigarette and 
being fucked by Otto. 

He smiled. 

"All this seems rather trivial. I will get you out of it." 

I felt very grateful to him. He made love clumsily, hardly better than a 
young virgin boy of 15. He got on my nerves with his sentimental slush, but 
he was a rare specimen of a delicate and devoted gentleman. 

I kissed him languorously with thankfulness. 

We were interrupted by the reappearance of the SS. This time there was also 
a newcomer, who rigidly presented himself: 

"Obersturmfuhrer Reder, head of the Paris Gestapo." 

"General H. von Brentano." 

"General, I hear that you are opposed to our arresting this young woman?" 

"You are quite right." 

"I would like to believe that you don't know the real facts: your protge 
helped a dangerous terrorist, Angela Colet, to escape." 

"It is all a lie. She has told me the whole story; she only went to see her 
at the prison." 

"Just so, and it was during this visit that she warned her that the train 
she was traveling in would be attacked by the underground." 

"It's not true. You have not the slightest proof." 

"We are certain of what we say. That is quite sufficient. General, despite 
all the respect due to your rank and your heroism, I must beg you not to 
interfere any more with my mission." 

Then, turning towards the two policemen and pointing me out, the 
Obersturmfuhrer ordered: 

"Arrest this woman!" 

In a hard, biting voice, Herman cut in: 

"Stop!" 

Despite themselves, the two froze to immobility. 

Very calm now, but sour-looking, Herman said to Reder: 

"Just a moment." 

Then he stalked over to the phone. 

"This is a priority call, give me the Military Governor of Paris at once. I 
am General H. von Brentano." 

There were a few moments of silence, which seemed an eternity, then I heard 
Herman explaining my case to the Governor. Then: "Ja, Your Excellency! 
Ja'wohl, Your Excellency. Viele Danke. Hochachtung, Your Excellency!" 

Herman hung up, then addressed himself to Reder: 

"By order of his Excellency the Governor, the warrant for this lady's arrest 
is canceled. Get out!" 

Pale with anger, Reder answered coldly: 

"I shall take up the matter with the Ober-sturmfuhrer Himmler in Berlin." 

"And I shall go to Field Marshal Goering himself. Now salute and scamp!" 

The four men clicked their boots, then disappeared angrily. 

* * * 

We were alone, and for the first time since I had known him I was sincere 
with Herman. I threw myself in his arms and kissed him. I put everything I 
had in that kiss, tenderness, respect and gratitude, and I felt in such 
comfort, my head resting against his large shoulder, that I would have liked 
to have stayed there forever and ever. 

 CHAPTER XVII The Fallen Idols 

However, fate was again to take a hand in changing my destiny. 

Karl came to see me one day, and with his usual enigmatic smile and his 
faintly sarcastic voice said: 

"Monique, I want you to be at one of our farewell parties tomorrow night." 

"Certainly." 

"This is going to be the best one we have ever had!" 

"Why, did you find the others so tame?" 

"Perhaps ... " 

Still smirking mysteriously, Karl's blue eyes sent me a joyous flame. 

So next night our merry band once more gathered at the appointed spot. 
Frieda, still as impatient as ever, questioned: 

"Well, what are we waiting for?" 

"We have guests tonight," answered Karl. 

"Ah! Who, may I ask?" 

"You will see in a moment." 

"Men or women?" 

"Both." 

"All the better; as the saying goes, the more the merrier." 

At that moment a couple came in. He was tall with graying hair, obviously a 
soldier who seemed awkward in his civilian suit. She was slim, very blonde 
and good looking, and she somewhat resembled Hilda. There was, however, one 
queer point about them. They both had masks on. To add to this, they did not 
say a word. From all this I deduced they wished to remain incognito; but as 
far as taking part in our foul manipulations went, they certainly did their 
share. We were hardly all in our birthday suits when the unknown woman 
caught me by one breast and, taking Hilda in the same way, lay down on the 
sofa, motioning us to caress her. 

Naturally we hurried to oblige her. She had a magnificent body. I got hold 
of one of her sharp, tasty tits with my lips, biting and licking it 
feverishly, while I fondled the other with my ever-wandering hand. As I 
savored the flavored juices of her blossoming fruit, Hilda worked lower down 
at her pussy. While passionately stroking her legs and thighs with her 
clammy fingers, she voraciously inserted her darting tongue between the lips 
of her vagina, groping deftly into her simmering, yawning crack. 

So I offered a heavenly vision of my arse-hole, being busily bent over 
sucking in the masked woman. It did not take long to feel a stiffened prick 
digging into me, and as I was certain that it was neither Karl nor Eric, I 
deduced, without turning around, that it was the stranger. As his rod 
slithered in and out, his hands busied about my backside, pinching and 
kneading it. All at once I felt him get out of me, and I saw that he had 
left me in order to get into Hilda, who was in the same position as myself. 
Then he abandoned her as well, and ripped into me anew. Three times he 
changed partners, then at last burst his tremendous ejaculation into my 
eagerly awaiting cunt. 

I will not dwell longer on that night's orgy. All I will say is that there 
were two more people than usual, and that they were not the least active! 

When we were again dressed, ready to go, Karl, who had drunk less than 
usual, as well as the others, spoke solemnly in a slightly hoarse voice: 

"My friends this is, as you know, our last night together. My dear Monique, 
we shall all be truly sorry to leave you. In a few days, we shall be gone. 
The Allies are closing in on us. We have done our duty in Poland, in Italy, 
in Russia and then in France. Now we are going to try to defend our 
threatened Fatherland." 

Eric chipped in: 

"All is not finished yet." 

"We have lost the war," said the masked man sadly. 

Karl looked at him with deference and agreed: 

"Our dream is over. The Third Reich has ceased to exist. But our sacred duty 
as patriots and soldiers is to fight on to the bitter end." 

What an extraordinary man. Without any transition, he had become a noble 
human being, who hardly 15 minutes before had been wallowing in a frenzy of 
debauchery. 

"Monique, you are the only stranger here. We are now going to bid you 
good-bye. We shall in all probability never see each other again, but I am 
sure I am speaking for all of us when I say that we wish you the best of 
luck from the bottom of our hearts." 

Very touching indeed! 

We left each other in silence. Only Karl kissed me, slipping an envelope in 
my bag, murmuring gently: 

"Thank you, Monique, and adieu. I shall never forget you ... " 

Several days afterwards, General Herman von Brentano stepped into my studio 
in the full paraphernalia of his rank. 

He took my hand reverently: 

"Monique, this is the last time I am going to see you. You know what has 
happened. The Allies are just outside Paris. My country is beaten. Although 
you are Belgian and I am German, perhaps you understand what my feelings 
are. My darling, I love you, love you passionately. You have filled my life 
with happiness. I know you are a realist, and I am sentimental, but you at 
least gave me the illusion of understanding me, and that was as much as I 
dared hope for." 

I was also sincere when I interrupted him: 

"You are wrong, Herman, I am really attached to you, and owe you a debt I 
can never repay." 

"I know, and I could not ask for more. Monique, my dear child, adieu, and 
may God be with you!" 

The General kissed me like a father, and it seemed to me that his sad blue 
eyes clouded for a moment. 

 CHAPTER XVIII Marriage 

From the vantage point of my balcony on the Champs Elysees, I looked on the 
joyfully delirious scenes of the liberation. I saw the yelling crowd 
shouting and gesticulating, welcoming the Allies, especially the women 
hanging on ferociously to the all-conquering Yankees. 

I have always hated these noisy exhibitions and that is why I took no part 
in this minor upheaval. I stayed at home during all those feverish days. 

At last, sometime after, I decided to go out. 

I went to Sirio's, where I usually went to have a drink. The place itself 
had not altered, but what a difference in the customers! Gone were the 
rather rigid and aloof German officers, now replaced by laughing and rowdy 
American officers, shouting and making a glorious din. A few women gripped 
on to their arms, while others sat on their knees, all of them making a 
hellish noise. 

I sat down at a relatively quiet table and made myself at ease. 

I had hardly done so than two officers, speaking in broken French, asked me 
if there was room for them. 

I nodded, and studied them. They were British officers, as calm and 
well-behaved as the Americans were noisy and rude. 

One of them, with an attractive smile which showed off his superb teeth to 
the best advantage, offered me a cigarette. 

"With pleasure Sir, thank you!" 

It was five years since I had spoken any English, which I had picked up at 
the convent. But I liked these two, and I made an effort to remember what 
little I knew of their language. 

"It's so nice you speak English. We don't speak a word of French, and this 
makes it very difficult for us in Paris." 

Our conversation went on in this lighthearted way. 

While speaking, I carefully scrutinized my two new acquaintances. I have 
never been attracted, like some women, by the film-star type. I consider 
that it is more important for a man to be kind, well-bred and to have sex 
appeal than to possess a well-cut profile. Casanova was not especially 
good-looking, and Don Juan's speeches were more attractive than his smile. 

That is why I am able to say, without the slightest bias, that these two 
officers were in fact good-looking. Their faces were certainly well-made, 
but at the same time they looked a real picture of health and strength, and 
were not in the least effeminate. 

I paid particular notice to one of them, with his schoolgirl complexion, his 
naturally blond curly hair, and his rather slight athlete's figure. 

One thing, however, worried me. 

All my lovers had as a rule been very forward, and always most enterprising. 
Whether French or German, while remaining within the bounds of good 
behavior, they knew how to speak to women. 

But these two, especially the one I had singled out, were timid when 
confronted with the opposite sex. For example, when lighting my cigarette, 
my hand brushed his accidentally, and would you believe it, he actually 
blushed at this insignificant contact. 

I could not get over it; in fact, it even cut the grass from under my feet. 
But I soon recovered. 

As much as he would allow me, I was as brilliant and attractive as possible. 

Having emptied our glasses, they got up, and together presented themselves: 

"Sir George Lanterbury." 

"Sir Philip Andrews." 

In my turn, I bowed and smiled. 

"Monique van P-." 

Their eyes lit up with joy. 

"Really! I believe my mother had the pleasure of knowing your father, Count 
Albert van P-, Belgian Ambassador to the Quirinal." 

"You are quite right, it was my father." 

So it was that in this smoke-filled cafe, among those half drunk Americans, 
among those high class prostitutes openly making love to them, in this 
atmosphere of primitive den, these two stiff Englishmen bowed to me as they 
would have done to their rightful Sovereign, His Gracious Majesty King 
George VI. 

* * * 

That is how I met my husband. Yes, I did say my husband, because he did not 
waste any time. 

At our third meeting, George, blushing like a little girl putting her hand 
for the first time in her little cousin's trousers, asked me point-blank: 

"Monique, I love you, and I wish to speak to your mother." 

"Will you please repeat, clearly and slowly, what you have just said?" 

He obliged, but I still could not understand him. 

I could comprehend his saying he loved me, he had taken quite a time over it 
as it was, as up till now he had not even kissed me, but I could not for the 
life of me make out why he should want to see my mother! Surely he was not 
going to tell her that he wanted to sleep with me! 

"Why is it necessary to see my mother?" 

"Why, to get her permission to marry, of course!" 

When he made this extraordinary statement, we were in a well-known 
restaurant, and I remember the orchestra was playing a Viennese waltz. 
Believe it or not, I was so taken aback that my head whirled around to the 
sound of the band, and the tables, the customers and the lights went 
spinning around. 

Marry him! Here was a man I had only seen twice before. I had not even slept 
with him, nor felt the touch of his lips on my cheeks, and now he was 
speaking of marriage. 

Monique, my child, get a hold on yourself! That is exactly what I did, 
taking a more serious air. He questioned me, worried about my change of 
mood. 

"Monique, darling, don't you love me?" 

Upon my word, if I said no he was capable of bursting into tears here and 
now. That would be the end! So, because I am a generous girl at heart, 
because I don't like tears, and especially because I was hungry and he had 
not yet ordered the menu, putting on a very creditable imitation of a modest 
and ingnue young girl, I lifted my eyes to him candidly and murmured in a 
deliciously naive way: 

"George, I love you too!" 

But deep inside of me I was thinking: 

"That will keep him quiet for the moment, but when he finds out that my 
mother and I are ruined, he will not go through with it." 

Anyhow, I was by now nearly starving, so I told him to hurry up with 
ordering the dinner ... 

But I was wrong about George, he was perfectly sincere and could not live 
without me. To add to his other charms he had an income of several thousand 
pounds a year plus a huge estate in Scotland and valuable property in 
London. In the usual phlegmatic Anglo-Saxon manner my fiance decided that we 
should get married as soon as possible, that is in a couple of months. 

During this time he was perfect. I was snowed under with flowers and 
presents, and we did most of the shows and famous restaurants in Paris. He 
had, however, forgotten one important detail, my fiery passion. He seemed 
not to notice it. He was a "respectable" Englishman to the core. From time 
to time he would kiss me, not on the lips, sometimes holding my hand with 
fervor. That was as far as he went. 

But he was starving me. During the last four years I had had more than my 
share of sexual intercourse and found it impossible to be completely 
deprived of it so abruptly. 

As my tender fiance would not take care of my pussy, I had to get somebody 
else to do it. That is why one afternoon I strolled along the boulevards 
looking for a man. In a short space of time, quite a collection of gentlemen 
made it plain to me that they were only too willing to oblige. Some stared 
at me fixedly, others winked broadly, and others even spoke their mind. Some 
were okay, some were not so hot, and some, if you will excuse my expression, 
were downright lousy. 

To tell the truth, on that particular day I did not really know myself what 
I wanted. 

I desperately wanted to make love, but I could not find the right fellow. 

Fed up with my fruitless search, I took the metro to go to the Bois de 
Boulogne. I seldom took it, and had not realized it was the rush hour, with 
the result that I found myself face to face with a worker who smelled of 
wine and garlic. I was squashed against his powerful body. Well, well! He 
was not so bad after all, I decided. I don't know what got hold of me that 
day; here I was getting worked up over a member of the proletariat in 
working clothes. And after all, why not, Messalina used to adore being 
fucked by drunken sailors and tramps. 

I was a Belgian viscountess and soon to be part of the British nobility, but 
I was not an empress. 

Too bad, he was the one for me, so I had recourse to my well-tried technique 
to get him going too. 

With a supple and feline gesture I rubbed my breasts against him. At first 
surprised, he quickly responded and pressed harder to me. Then his leg 
insidiously slid between mine. I opened them slightly. He smiled, and 
brusquely his thigh stuck to my belly, so that he could certainly feel the 
heat of my sex through the rough cloth. His hand went round my hip and 
squeezed me even more, I felt with satisfaction that his virile member was 
already awakened. 

During all this episode, the tube rolled on, and we still had not spoken a 
word. 

Slightly red in the face, with a hoarse voice he spoke: 

"Where are you getting off?" 

I looked at him, smiling, my eyes ablaze, and murmured: 

"Wherever you want to." 

The tube was already slowing down; he got hold of my arm and impatiently 
said: 

"Let's get down here!" 

Still without a word, we got out on to the Champs Elysees. He looked me 
over, then spoke with a respectful note in his voice: 

"You are obviously a high-class lady; how come you picked on me?" 

"Let us say your manhood attracted me." 

"I am certainly a lucky guy! There is only one trouble, I don't know where 
to take a rich doll like you!" 

I had an inspiration. Why make this obliging fellow pay out a packet for an 
expensive room when my studio was so near. Incidentally, my fiance knew 
nothing of this hideout. 

"Don't bother to look around, we'll go to my place." 

When we got there he was awestruck by the luxury, which of course he was not 
used to. I poured out the drinks in expensive crystal glasses. He looked at 
them with admiration, then emptied the contents of his in one gulp. I admit 
that I, future peeress of England, now behaved like a well-trained 
prostitute. 

Now my fully awakened senses made me almost cry out to him: 

"Make yourself at ease, don't stand there gawking!" 

Nearly brutally, I took off his coat, sat down on his knees, and stuck my 
lips to his in one of my homemade kisses. It had an immediate effect. He 
shoved me away, in one stride was up beside me, and fastening one hand on my 
breasts and the other on my posterior, blurted out: 

"I want you!" 

"Me too," I said softly. 

I let fall my dress, whipped off my underwear, and stood provokingly 
revealed in complete nudity. He lifted me as if I had been as light as a 
feather, and, throwing me on the sofa with shaking hands, he fondled and 
petted me all over my body. 

In a flash, he discarded his clothes and fucked me with Herculean strokes. 
He accomplished his task, sure of his manly strength, his virility and 
power. 

We came together, and in this studio which had been the silent witness of so 
many refined vices and subtle perversions, there were only two bodies locked 
together in a normal, eternal embrace. We cried out our happiness in unison. 

Three times in a row this robust lover sent me off. I had looked for a man, 
and I had found one! At last, resting after our sexual combat, he said to me 
in a queer way: 

"It's the first time!" 

I burst out laughing. 

"My dear friend, don't make fun of me. The first time indeed! You make love 
like a veteran, and believe me, coming from me that is a compliment." 

"You did not let me finish what I was saying. What I meant to say was that 
it was in fact the first time that I have made love with a woman of your 
class, so you must understand me, it seems rather strange. My previous 
mistresses have always come from the lower classes like me. You belong to 
another world, I can feel it. I did not go to university, but I can make out 
the difference." 

"Yes, so I can see; you are evidently intelligent, so why bother about that? 
We made love together. It was good while it lasted. That is all there is to 
it. What does our difference in class matter?" 

"In this case it is very important, because for the first time I feel fully 
satisfied. Although I am 28, it is the first time that a woman has had that 
effect on me. I have got you under my skin, and I believe I am falling for 
you." 

I cut in sharply: 

"Please, none of that! Sentimentality and I don't go together. I met you in 
the metro, an hour later you were fucking me and it was most pleasant, but 
that is all. Don't have the slightest illusion about it, we shall never see 
each other again. I don't want a chain around my neck!" 

He looked at me sadly, and I regretted I had spoken so harshly. Gently 
taking his head in my hands, I kissed him, saying sincerely: 

"Before you imagine you are attracted to me, I had better make things clear 
to you right away. I am not the right woman for you, but a marvelous 
adventure that happened once in your life. Keep this memory of me if you 
like. You are a nice guy, honest, frank and loyal. You need a faithful 
companion, to give you a lot of children and to mend your socks. I am the 
very opposite of all that. I am unscrupulous, and without a care in the 
world. Your way of making love was most satisfying, but I would soon tire of 
your primitive way, as I am used to sexual perversion and bizarre erotic 
positions. So we had better get dressed now. Have a drink, and we will part 
friends." 

* * * 

The marriage went off perfectly. However, as a result of it I had to take 
care of one small matter. 

My husband, imbued with prejudice, had to find a young virgin girl in his 
bed on the wedding night. Two or three days before I had washed out my cunt, 
putting in a tiny piece of lemon. This was to give him the right impression. 

That is why, when George got into our nuptial bed, he found his virtuous 
bride, not exactly trembling - it does not do to exaggerate these things - 
but the perfect picture of a young though experienced virgin. 

With great tenderness he undressed me, kissed me at last tenderly on my 
lips, then, laying me out on the spacious bed, began, not so clumsily as I 
would have expected, to fondle and stroke my body, finally reaching that 
temple which he thought unpierced. 

You know what I am like, and I had to bite my lips in order not to cry out 
after a few minutes: 

"Take me ... I need your manly prick. Take me ... !" 

Unfortunately it would have seemed a trifle out of place. 

So I kept quiet, although I was by now tremendously excited. 

At last he made up his mind, and I did not, to my surprise, have to pretend. 
Had I used too much lemon? I must have done, because when he came into me 
quite gently I really felt a violent pain. 

So, with one or two cries and sighs of satisfaction, George was convinced 
that he had possessed his wife's virginity. This is so important to people 
like him, I wonder why? 

Sometime later we went to London, where my husband made me very happy. 

He had only one drawback. He only condescended to prove his manhood to me 
two or three times a month at the most. And to crown it all, it was over too 
quickly, without hors d'oeuvres or dessert. On the whole, I was very 
faithful, and I only cuckolded him four or five times in three years, and 
that with strangers met by chance. 

I would not have hurt his love or dignity for anything in the world. 

He never realized this, I am glad to say, because one day he came back with 
a heavy cold. This worsened into pneumonia, and despite his robust 
constitution, he died nine days later in my arms. 

I cannot help my depraved nature, but on this occasion at least I was a 
perfect wife. During the whole time I barely slept more than five or six 
hours a day. I can still see now the look of love and gratitude on his face 
as he gave his last breath. 

* * * 

Having left me a considerable fortune, I am able to go about as I choose. I 
flit from one adventure to the next, never staying long, and always 
searching to satisfy my unquenched desire. 

So should you ever meet a shapely, elegant female among your wanderings, do 
not despair, your turn may be next. 


 The End
