The Prince and the Nun

by Jacqueline George

  “Rado was surprised to see you?”

  “Of course. They were all surprised to see me, and especially the Major. They sat me by the fire and gave me some hearth bread and venison stew, and things started to look a bit better. The Major took me to bed and I slept like a log for the rest of the night and half the morning too. I couldn’t move when I woke up. My legs wouldn’t work and I ached so much across my back and shoulders. I had to get up for a pee–that was difficult in the cold with so many clothes on–but then I went back to bed for the rest of the day. The second day was better. I could move, but my back and shoulders were aching! We had a party in the evening. It was really nice. They’ve got everything they need up there. Food, cognac, a warm fire, and a nice warm cave to go to sleep in. Rado’s a big man now, Mistress. He’s in charge of everything and all the others do what he tells them.

  “In the morning we started off walking back. That was difficult in all that snow, and then we skied for a bit. We hid in the trees for a while until one of the men came to say the patrol had passed and we were free to go, and the Major and I started out. It wasn’t too bad coming back. Most of it’s downhill, so we just slid gently down the trail and I tried not to fall off too much. And then we found you.”

  “Well, I think you’re very brave, you little idiot. I hope the Major appreciated his medicine.”

  “I think he was getting better already, to tell the truth, but he appreciated my coming to find him.”

  “So he should. I don’t think I’d be brave enough to go skiing in the forest at night by myself. What did the General say when you got back?”

  “He was very nice. I thought he was going to shout at me and maybe even whip me again, but he said I am a credit to my sex. He said that if I’d been a bit taller he’d make me a sergeant in the Prussian Guard. Then he told me to be sure and visit him tomorrow after lunch. So it looks as if I’m back again! Although, if he thinks I’m going to be on top, he’ll have to think again. My legs are still too stiff for that sort of exercise. If he’s so keen, he can do all the work.”

  Mefist came and took Therese to her office that evening. It had been so long that she was instantly excited and hurried to hang her dress in the cupboard. When she turned she found Mefist already reclining on the chaise longue with his feet up. He watched her expectantly. For once he did not want to control her.

  She was at a loss. “What shall I do, Mefist?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. What would you like to do?”

  “Mefist—” she pleaded.

  “Come on, my dear, show some imagination. I expect something exciting in return for the extravagant fee I pay for your services. No, that doesn’t mean I’m going to steal your virginity. I’m glued into my trousers, so you’re safe as far as that goes. I just want to know what the Mistress of Montebello can do when she’s trying to please me.”

  For a moment she felt cross with him, but then she took the challenge. “I’ll dance for you,” she said, “but I’m not ready yet.” She went to her desk and drew out her comb and her makeup. She pulled her chair over to the chaise longue and set her things on it. Then she dragged the mirror to the foot of the day bed and turned to Mefist.

  “Open your legs. I want to sit down.” She sat on the end of the chaise longue between his legs and adjusted the mirror until she could see herself comfortably. Now she had become used to seeing herself in nothing more than jewelry and stockings, she knew she looked good. She took in the picture; dark hair flowing to her shoulders, fine features and slightly flushed cheeks, smallish, well-rounded breasts with pink buttons semi-erect and staring back at her. Her black suspender belt cinched her waist and complemented the dark triangle of hair that disappeared into the shadows beneath her.

  She shook her hair and passed her comb back to Mefist. “Comb my hair,” she asked.

  He had done this before, she was sure. He deftly worked from the tips to the roots, banishing any hint of tangles and gently combing until the teeth ran freely through her mane and her scalp tingled. She tipped her head far back until she could feel her hair reaching down to her shoulders. The teeth of the comb scratched down her back, and she shivered. Her nipples tightened into hard buttons, and between her legs her sex began to wake.

  “Thank you,” she said, reaching back for the comb. Ignoring him, she reached for her makeup and started to go through the motions of dressing her face. She could not see him in the mirror, but she felt him watching every move. She took her time and made him suffer. Her lipstick came last. She stretched her mouth open and worked carefully to paint the perfect line. Finally, she pressed her lips together and relaxed to examine the result. What now, she asked herself?

  She stopped in the middle of closing the lipstick tube and set the top down on the chair. Stretching one nipple nearly flat, she started to rub the lipstick onto it. It felt exciting, and the nipple stood proud when she finished. In the mirror the red colour looked strong and shocking. She smiled and moved on to the other one.

  She stood, keeping her back to him. She reached behind her and slipped both thumbs down inside her suspender belt. Running them between the front and back, she settled the belt comfortably on her hips. She stretched and twisted to look at the seams of her stockings. Then, turning to him at last, she lifted one foot onto the chaise longue. Using both hands, she smoothed the stocking on her leg and concentrated on making a slight adjustment to the tension of one of her straps. She did not look at him but she knew he was looking at her, staring between her legs at her sex and willing her to show him more of it. The thought excited her further, and she started on the other leg.

  Standing at the foot of the chaise longue, she smiled at him. He was lying back with a grin on his handsome face. She thought she could see the swelling of his sex in his trousers. That felt good too. He sat up, passed her a champagne glass and made the motions of a toast to her, but said nothing. She drank and set her glass back on the desk. It was time to dance.

  The gramophone was playing outside, and the music came softly into her office. She stood with her legs a little apart, her hands on her hips, and started to sway in time to the music. His eyes followed her hips from side to side, but the music was too soft and she started to dance to the music in her head. She swung her hips further and faster, tipping them back and forth to provoke him. Her breasts were swinging with her movements. That felt good; she knew he loved watching her breasts move. She pirouetted on one foot and turned her back to him. Again she swayed her hips, and she knew he was staring at her bottom. She widened her stance a little and stuck it out towards him as she swayed. From where he lay, she knew he could see underneath her. As she stuck her bottom out, he could watch her sex in the shadows. She wondered if he could see her excitement.

  Keeping her hands on her hips, she started a languid two-step around the chaise longue, stopping now and then to go through the motions without lifting her feet from the floor. He smiled happily at her, and the swelling in his trousers had become unmistakable. She started on a second circuit of the daybed.

  As she reached the foot of the daybed again, he moved. Putting both arms behind his back, he made it clear that, despite his excitement, she would get no help from him. She bent and lifted his legs onto the chaise longue. She danced on the spot at his feet. Her hands had left her hips and she danced with her arms. As she lifted and stretched, she knew the shape of her breasts would be changing. He would like that.

  Opening her legs so that she could stand astride the chaise longue, she started to sway up towards him. As she swayed she ran her hands up and down her sides and caressed her breasts, twisting her nipples and running her hands back down to her hips to start again. She could see he was enjoying her and her mounting excitement. She knew her sex was swollen and wet, and she knew he found it beautiful. She tried to show him more as she moved closer.

  She ran her hands across her breasts and reached down between her legs to fleetingly tease her hungry sex. As her fingertips brushed against her inner lips
they were gaping and swollen, rubbery and resistant to her touch. She shuddered as she reached deeper and brought her moisture up to rub into her sensitive button. Her fingers lingered to caress it. It felt good and she started to rub, slowly and firmly.

  In front of her, the bulge in his trousers held her eyes. She wanted to reach out and unbutton him. To pull out the white baton that Wanda and all the girls had played with. Her rubbing continued. She wanted to pull back the skin of his sex and expose the swollen purple plum that they had kissed and sucked. She wanted to take that head and rub it up and down between her wet and open lips. She wanted to point it at her innermost spot, to hold it to her entrance, and to sit on it, to slide down onto his spike until he had taken her completely.

  She stood rigid and shaking as she came. Before she fell, Mefist quickly drew his arms out from behind his back and held her firmly by the hips. Insistently he pushed her to one side until she had to abandon her stance above him and, drawing her leg back from across the daybed, stand beside him. He spun her around and pulled her back to sit between his open legs. Lifting her hips and pushing her shoulders, he dragged her into place until she was lying back on top of him, as he was lying on the daybed. Her legs dropped open and fell from him and the bed. Her toes barely brushed the carpet. She raised her head to look in the mirror and saw herself draped wantonly over him. She formed an open invitation. Her sex, pink and open, stared back at her. The shadow of her entrance opened at the base of her petals. She moaned and let her head fall back onto his shoulder.

  His hands held her waist. They were hard and strong. She trembled as he moved them up, up across her ribs to the undersides of her breasts. His fingertips caressed her as he drew them across her breasts, teasing the sensitive sides and running almost up to her shoulders before returning to repeat. His touch felt wonderful, and she knew that he could make her come. His stroking grew firmer and began to circle her nipples. She was on fire, and she caught her breath as his fingertips strayed onto the rough surfaces around her buttons. He dragged loose fingers backwards and forwards across her nipples, the rubber stubs being pulled sideways by each finger, springing free just in time to be caught by the next. It was too much, and her orgasm rolled over her again.

  He was whispering to her, “Oh, that was beautiful! So good, I could feel everything. I love your breasts. So round and soft and beautiful. And your nipples….” He squeezed her buttons between finger and thumb, rolling and twisting them to the edge of pain. Again she was coming. “No, no!” she heard herself saying, but it was too late; she trembled and twisted in his arms as it hit her again.

  She had reached up to pull his head against her, leaving her body even more open to his hands. Again he was whispering in her ear. “So good. You’re wonderful, my love. So sexy. I love to feel you coming. No one comes like you. I’m going to touch your flower. Would you like that?” His hands roamed across her stomach and moved slowly downwards. “Do you want me to touch you? Would you like that? Tell me you want it.”

  His fingers reached her mound, trailing from side to side and around the bush that graced it. Each time they brushed past the top of her furrow, she tipped her hips up to capture them—but they passed on. “Please, Mefist, please….” she begged.

  “That’s right,” he whispered. “That’s right. You want me to touch you. You want me to open your little flower.” His fingers reached deeper between her legs, but still he did not touch her as she was aching to be touched. He brushed up and down the outside of her sex, pressing and pulling her there and drawing her sex open and more open. She thought she would cry in frustration, but finally his finger reached down and dipped into her entrance.

  “Oh, you’re so wet and so excited. You’re a sexy woman, my love. So hot and sexy.” His fingertip was dipping and circling, dipping and circling. She begged for more, begged him to reach into her and fill her but he held back, circling her empty entrance. Then the fingers of his other hand touched her clitoris and played up and down. She lifted her head, and in the mirror she could see the invading hands covering her sex and moving in her furrow, and she was coming, coming….

  Her head fell back, and in her mind she said, “No, no, stop, please stop!” but her orgasms did not stop and she was lost in confusion.

  She returned to herself curled up in a tight ball on top of Mefist. She held one trapped hand pressed hard against her to keep it still, and his hand and hers were crushed between her thighs. She lay still and panting, breathing in the scent of him.

  “That was fantastic.” Her body was purring. Her sex gave a contented spasm, and Mefist wiggled the fingertip that lay trapped inside her. “Ah! No! Take it out!” The sensation was unbearable, and she opened her thighs to let him out. “Ah!” she said as he slipped out of her. “I’m so sensitive I can’t bear to be touched.”

  Beneath her, Mefist struggled to move up the daybed. He eased her down until she was circled by his legs and lying back against his chest. “There! Now go to sleep, my love. You need a rest.”

  She let the feeling of relaxed warmth envelop her and her eyelids began falling, but she could not sleep. Maria was knocking at the door. “Mistress! Mistress! Come quickly! Drazevich has taken Rebecca.”

  Chapter 32

  “Timko told me, Mistress. He’s trying to find the General now. You must help her, Mistress. God alone knows what he’ll do to her. If he hasn’t done it already.”

  “Did Timko say where she is?” demanded Mefist.

  “He’s taken her to the school house.”

  “Therese, get dressed and come down to the gate house. I’ll grab a radio and get ready to move. Maria, go and find the General. Tell him where I’m going and ask if he would be kind enough to call on the radio.”

  The frost was hard and ice crackled under their wheels as they swung out of the castle and down the ramp. Moonlight brightened the snow blanket and made the bare trees black and sinister. The village stood dark and silent. They pulled into the schoolyard, and Mefist went to hammer on the door. Therese entered with him.

  The police had partitioned off the far end of the entrance hall and taken the two front classrooms as their own. “Lieutenant Drazevich, please,” asked Mefist, tight-lipped.

  “In here, Your Honour.” The policeman looked terrified.

  They found Drazevich buttoning his uniform jacket. The school room was big and bare. No sign remained of the children who had studied there. The high walls had been severely whitewashed and there was a desk, filing cabinet and a coat stand. Therese’s eyes went to the far side of the room. Rebecca was there, standing naked against the wall. Her hands, cuffed together, were high above her, tied to a heating pipe. Red welts criss-crossed her white skin from shoulder to knee. She was sobbing and hiding her face against her upraised arm. Therese rushed to free her; standing on a chair, she tried to untie the handcuffs from the pipe.

  “Therese—” called Mefist. He held up an open clasp knife for her. She sawed at the tight knots.

  “Lieutenant, I need an explanation.”

  “For capturing one of your spies?” Drazevich sneered. “The prisoner is being interrogated about her admitted partisan links. Get lost, Prince, and take your fancy woman with you.” Drazevich was furious, spitting the words at them.

  There came a tap at the open door, and Mefist’s driver was waiting. “Beg pardon, Your Honour, the General’s on the radio.”

  At last Rebecca’s handcuffs came free from the pipe, and she collapsed onto the floor. Therese sat with her and tried to comfort her. “Where are her clothes, Lieutenant?”

  “What are you worried about that slut for? She’s just another Jew.”

  Therese was about to shout at him, but Mefist came back. “Lieutenant Drazevich, the General orders you to give up your sidearm to me and report to his office immediately in my company.”

  For a moment, Drazevich’s face showed the anger and hatred that consumed him. Clumsily twisting his pistol from its holster, he passed it to Mefist. “You’ll pay for th
is, you little nancy boy. You’ll be getting your ticket to SekPol HQ before the end of tomorrow.”

  Mefist checked the pistol chamber and looked at him coolly. “I don’t suppose you’d like to have an accident cleaning your pistol, would you? It’s customary for gentlemen at times like this. No? I can’t say I’m surprised. Let’s go. You can travel beside my driver, and I shall be behind you with my pistol out. Can she move, Therese? She’s got to come too. Where are the keys for her cuffs, Drazevich?”

  “Damn you, Mefist!” He stepped to the window and threw it open. “Go and fetch them yourself!” Before he could be stopped, he had drawn something small from his pocket and flung it far into the night.

  Mefist stood stone-faced. “Therese, the cuffs will have to stay on. I’m sure Lieutenant Drazevich will find a convincing explanation for the General. She’ll have to travel as she is. It won’t be for much longer.”

  “She’s naked, Mefist. I’ll give her my coat, but—she’s got no shoes, for a start.”

  Mefist called into the corridor. “Corporal! Where are the girl’s clothes?”

  The policeman appeared. No doubt he had been listening, and he now looked at Mefist and Drazevich impassively. “Beg pardon, Your Honour, but she didn’t bring none with her when she came.”