This wasn't the first «party» Kozincko gave at the Chateau Vert. He had grown into the habit as much to entertain his friends — and very special friends they were — as to surfeit his own morbidly depraved tastes.
Generally the victims of these Bacchanals were poor girls lured away from their modest surroundings, and who after the fiesta were but a few more human wrecks in Kozincko's and his friends' trade.
On that night, half a dozen of these men were present, men on whose faces the very treponemes seemed to crawl about, men who no longer cared for games they knew too well, and had to be soaked with alcohol to get some sort of fun… A German, a Roumanion Jew, two Spaniards, a sleek-haired Argentine, and Freddy who was Kozincko's manager in France.
They had brought their women with them, ex-shop assistants or «demi-rep» encased for this one night in magnificent evening dresses and obviously ill-at-ease.
Nicolas Kozincko insisted upon this gorgeous dresses, finding a morbid, refined, pleasure, in treating those cunts as women of the world to sully them all the better when fucking them at the end of the evening.
All these were very pretty girls, but most of them with sheepish, submissive look, were ready to gratify any whim of their present master. They seemed to be on fatigue duty, this was no party for them, no feast, no treat, they had been paid to look lovely and happy.
That was why Kozincko had asked Mrs. Cornavin to get few untamed samples of rustic cunts for that night. As to him, he had got Myriam and he got awfully horny at the mere thought of it.
The party had been going on for some time already when Myriam came. In her resplendent white, clinging, dress she looked like a fairy. Kozincko though he knew her well couldn't help saying:
«You look like the loveliest Cinderella in her ball dress!»
And he introduced her to his friends.
They greeted her without being chary of their praises. They didn't forget the last discovery of the boss was at least for the time being taboo, yet this didn't hinder them from taking stock of her from head to foot… shamelessly. Kozincko was flattered to see in his friends' eyes their boundless of indiscreet admiration.
It didn't take Myriam long to find out the party wasn't what she expected, the men had been drinking, the women were informally offering their goods… All the faces were weary, sad, Myriam was sorry she had come. She wanted to escape.
Kozincko must have guessed it, for he handed her a glass of champagne:
«Drink it little dove, you'll see how fine life is at the bottom of a glass!»
Myriam drank, and drank again and again.
Little by little her first impression dwindled away. She thought Kozincko kinder, his friends she thought droll, their girls looked happier. After the fifth glass she let him kiss her lips and hardly balked when he slid his hairy hand into her snowy bosom.
Round about twelve they began to dance. Myriam followed all of them one after the other. Freddy held her so tight she felt guilty but dared not say a word. The Argentine always managed to let his hand sneak along her thighs and pinched her buttocks with a vengeance.
Once he cornered her and slipping his hand under the flimsy material tried to caress her thighs. Myriam pushed him away just as her aunt came in.
Her aunt looked very puritan and grave as she entered..! She had come to tell Kozincko the country girls were there. She introducted them one after the other.
How had she prevailed upon them to come was a mystery to any living soul? Three ruddy country lasses… very young at that.
They giggled foolishly, nudging each other.
Very simply dressed, fresh, rather pretty, they had the charm of extreme youth, the charm of unripe fruit… They had been probably drinking for their eyes glistened strangely and they were very red in the face.
Kozincko called his friends. While the girls were rushed into the fiesta, Mrs. Cornavin drew close to Myriam and gave her a small pill box.
«Take these! They'll keep you from getting drunk without making you sad.»
A few white pills… Myriam swallowed them all and poured a glass of champagne on top.
«Cheers my aunt!»
Kozincko was eyeing the scene from a angle, he smiled and winked at the old wizened hag.
«Now, he grunted, you will force me…»
— The party had reached its climax. A coarse mirth lightened up every face. Nervous giggles rose from the girls' throats. In dark nooks couples looked like strange figure heads.
The whole atmosphere was electric with desire. As if all these beings had spent the evening sharpening their senses. Every cunt seemed to possess weird mesmerizing powers.
The three girls Mrs. Cornavin had brought were the most lively… They seemed to be endlessly playing hide and seek with the males. They let them selves be kissed, but seemed cautious of allowing any other caress.
Suddenly an oppressive silence prevailed. Then Freddy launched the first attack.
He was dancing with one of the country wenches, whose name was Monette. As it was a tango he had managed to bend her almost double against him, rubbing himself hard against her skirt. Then he tripped his partner, tumbled her on the floor. It went like a greased lightning. Before she could say a word, Monette was quartered under him, the next instant she had a good stiff length up her twat and enjoyed it immensely after a faint cry…
That was the beginning of a general fucking. There were wails, sobs, grunts obscene calls. Some were fucking away on the table, other in armchairs, it all looked a bit untidy on the whole…
Sitting in an armchair by the fire place, while Kozincko was duly engaged in tickling her breasts and petting her pussy, Myriam had a dispassionate view on the scene. Something burnt her deeply, since she had taken her aunt's pills. An unaccountable, mute desire stirred in her womb. She submitted rapturously to Kozincko's caress. She thrilled with the same yearning as yesterday under the blows. She craved for… she didn't know exactly what she craved for.
Kozincko wished he had been able to screw one of the wild fowls… for they were wriggling their asses at the end of his friends' pricks with unusual lust, but he was afraid somebody would get it into Myriam before he could say «Jack…» if he went away… He was content with watching on her face the growth of a frantic desire. He knew that before long she would be sprawling on the floor thighs apart asking for it; every unbuttoned fly already put her in a trance. She'd soon be on fire… and he would make it up for her then.
One of the country girls who had managed to escape the stallion up till then, sought a hiding place near by, in a vast arm chair. She looked half distracted with fear and sought for the door. The Argentine was after her.
He quickly found her, she gasped and tried to fly. Without a word he thrust her back into the arm chair.
«Where are you trying to? Don't you feel comfy here? Show me your legs. He bent and tore off her skirt with a yank. He laughed with pleasure at the sight. Myriam shuddered at his coarse guffaw.
«And you wanted to hide such pretty little crack! Open it up and don't be a prude… Your friends weren't so finicky..!»
Holding her back, legs up, with one hand he was quickly taking his cock out. The girl who had understood any resistance would be vain was sobbing quietly, he ran his prick on her lips, on her breasts that had half escaped from her dress in the struggle, then he spread aside the delicate rounded thighs. His prick stood out as a flag pole, he bent, nosed in, arched his back, the girl gave a wail, and he laughed thickly, stammering:
«What lovely narrow cunt… it fits me like a glove… a glove. Myriam, at that very moment made a convulsive grab at Kozincko's fly and fainted away.»
She hardly felt two strong arms lifting her up, while, Kozincko whispered hoarsely:
«At last, you'll get it in too!»
— Myriam came to in Ghislaine's room where Kozincko had carried her. In her white dress, lying helpless on the bed, she looked like some mysterious blossom in the dark. Bending over her Kozincko was kneading her breasts masterfully after baring them. Before she could completely regain consciousness he crushed her lips thrusting a taut tongue far into her mouth, while his hand rove under her dress, sliding between her thighs up into her crack where he began a maddening caress, before he could inflict it a longed for wound.
Myriam was already wet under his fingers, her thighs blissfully opened up she had completely forgotten where she was, who he was. Her blood was on fire. Her body hurt with ravenous cravings. Her temples hammered. A strange hunger harrowed her womb.
Her breasts were taut and hard. Their pink nipples were darted upwards imploringly. Her loins shook with agonizing thrills, expectant of a blessed suffering that would soothe the intolerable yearning of her flesh.
Kozincko knew she was his now. Shaken by a long pent up desire, he tore her clothes away with distracted gestures. His eyes were riveted on her heaving breasts darted towards his lips in a dumb, insane, appeal. He was stammering broken sentences, in which her name recurred as a leitmotiv. Alternately tender and voracious.
«Let me… Let me… little puss… Let me… I won't hurt you… Then he would sneer and faltered… I'll fuck you up to the eyes… I'll make you shout with pleasure…»
Blurred images passed before his eyes. Girls he had forced, girls who had offered themselves obscenely. He saw Ghislaine's face, his dear little girl he had so well sheltered from evil… All this images danced a frenzied jigue before his eyes. He had never desired any girl as much as this one. It was like a huge blaze gnawing at his vitals.
Suddenly he brushed back her skirt over her thighs and panted before that glorious virginal body. The stockings didn't conceal the ivory of the skin.
Her sex was half hidden under light lawns and laces, its shadowy curves were lost between the quivering thighs.
He wrenched that flimsy rampart off and she felt him coming smack against her, she jumped aside in a panic crying:
«No… No… not you… not you!»
This incensed Kozincko. He clutched her frail shoulders, mauling her tender flesh.
«Why not? he roared… you bitch, you dirty little bitch..! You'd love it but with somebody else… with some handsome chap… You'll be mine, mine, and no one else… I did for you more than for any other piece of cunt… Now that's enough… I'll fuck the ass off you… I'll ram it up that hole of yours…»
Kozincko was wan with rage; he grew brutal. Still, Myriam managed to escape, crazy with the contact of this hairy swollen tool on her thigh, on her buttocks as she struggled frantically to free herself from his grasp.
She was going to jump from the bed when two deft hands, when somebody else, pulled her skirt over her arms and face, then her arms were pinioned tight behind her back. It was vain to struggle now. She heard him laughing wildly her legs were forced open, she felt a warm stiff lump on her pelvis twitching lasciviously, then she was torn, thunderstruck as it were. She didn't even cry with pain. A huge tide seemed to overwhelm her. Pleasure lashed her with such strength, with such powerful impact, she slung her legs round his neck and dragged and glued her cunt as close as she could, wailing with joy all the time. Kozincko was mumbling in her hair:
«I got you, bitch, I got you at last!»
Myriam was past caring who had shoved in as long as she felt it jammed in tight, as far as possible…
She felt the other person had let her arms free, but saw nobody; she dug her nails into her lover's shoulders, her mouth twisted savagely, she squirmed with delight under his weight, stammering: Oh come, come deeper, go on. Kozincko was fucking away for dear life as he had never done before.
Violently clinging to him Myriam sank into volupty.