Chapter 4

The plan was amazingly simple. All I had to do was bring some wine to my grieving Grandmother, seduce her and get her drunk and then steal her keys and money. I packed a small bag that evening, but I did not tell Nannette what my intentions were.

“I will give you fifty strokes of the cane before we leave tonight, Connasse! I do not want you to return to your insolent and cruel ways simply because we leave this house. I will still cane you regularly when we leave,” I informed my mother. I bent her over and attached her nipples and tongue to a post in the small room and then forced her to spread her legs while I caned her. I had learned how to speak harshly to my mother from Fabienne. She responded well to my authority. She placidly obeyed my orders to hold this position while I gave her a final beating for the evening.

“As you wish, Maitre Guillaume! Thank you,” my mother said with contrition in her tone. It made me incredibly horny to control and discipline my mother in this strict manner. The only reason I did not fuck her was that I intended to visit Fabienne and seduce her before we left. I would need to get her drunk and find the keys to my mother’s chains.

If I couldn’t find the keys, I would make her travel through the heart of Paris with the chains under her clothes, and we would eventually have to find a locksmith. I reached the conclusion that we had to leave before my mother went to prison. I wanted to continue controlling her and living as I was, but that would not be possible for much longer. The next best thing was to escape with her and my little sister into Paris’s seedy underworld.

Naturally, I was apprehensive about the plan. I had so much doubt, but my mother convinced me this was the only way she could avoid prison, and she promised to continue to remain my willing slave once we left. I found a bottle of Brandy and entered my parent’s room to seduce Fabienne.

“Guillaume, whatever shall I do?” Fabienne was wrapped in a feather boa and a white lace corset that exposed her breasts while pushing them up. She sat in my parent’s bedroom, writing letters. I could see they were to implore priests and local politicians on her behalf.

“I do not know Fabienne, but tonight you can get drunk and fuck?” I smiled warmly. It felt strange to call my Grandmother by her first name in an informal manner. Yet, she regarded me as if I were now an adult-like her. I suppose I expected a magic wand to tap me on the shoulder and tell me I was an adult now. I was still in school, and in Victorian society, it was not polite for one of my age to address my Grandmother this way. Yet, it thrilled me that she asked me to do it anyway. It filled me with confidence I could speak to her about drinking and fucking as well. It would have been an impossible idea only a few months earlier.

I held up a bottle of her favorite brandy. It wasn’t wine, but our liquor cabinet like our pantry was relatively bare. Fabienne had given up shopping over the last two days to focus on her next steps.

My Grandmother removed her feather boa and stood before me naked. She was ordinarily reserved and well mannered. Tonight, she took the brandy and took a swig directly out of the bottle the way I had seen my mother do before she became Connasse. “I’ve been such a fool! I realize that now. You must take over the family finances and see to the discipline of your mother. I have provided instructions on our homework,” she handed me the Devoirs Des Femmes book she had been writing. She also told me where I could find a little cash to go shopping with.

“Our homework?” I asked my Grandmother to clarify what she was really asking me to do.

“Robert is kind and sweet, but he lacks guidance. You must take over the household while Connasse and I are in prison. You must see to the education of your sister as well,” Fabienne took another swig of the brandy with a forlorn expression on her face.

“Is it so certain you will be imprisoned, Fabienne?” I asked her in a conciliatory manner.

“Monsieur Nicephore will see to it that my fate is sealed,” she answered with a frown. “I had half hope and half agony that I would not face public humiliation, but Mr. Nicephore’s attorney has provided unrefutable documentation and statements. They have imprisoned women of higher station for far less than what they have on me,” she said.

It had been explained to me that my mother had voluntarily confessed to crimes against nature. However, she must still appear before the Magistrate for sentencing. Witnesses would be called to testify to the extent of those crimes. Mr. Nicephore and Fabienne being the only witnesses needed to ensure an appropriate and rather lengthy sentence. Connasse would be expected to throw herself on the mercy of the court and ask for expatiation, or they would sentence her even more harshly.

It seemed now that Mr. Niceophore intended to accuse Fabienne of crimes against nature, and she would likely be sentenced at the same proceeding if she could not prove her innocence.

I nodded and tried to console her. I touched my hand to Fabienne’s swanlike neck in a pleasing manner. Fabienne took another drink.

“Maitre’ Guillaume. I need to accept the reality and prepare myself. I have very little time before my court date. I must appear before the Magistrate for the case I opened on Connasse. They will most likely arrest me there when Mr. Niceophore gives his testimony. I want you to beat me and treat me like Connasse until my hearing, Maitre Guillaume,” she asked.

She didn’t seem excited about the prospect of being beaten. Fabienne assured me that it would be far more embarrassing when she is sentenced if she is not prepared to endure the humiliations and beatings. “I must face my punishment with grace. There will be daily beatings, hard labor, and hard conditions, and I wish to do my lamentations here so that I can put on a brave face before my jailers,” she said.

Fabienne was very proud, and I knew in her own way she felt the indignity of being stripped and beaten would be much worse if she were not prepared to accept it. She had lashed my mother many times, but she had not tasted the whip herself.

That was a truly unexpected request and one I was unprepared to grant. I considered my options. Instead of running away with my mother, I could remain in the apartments. I might try to run the household with Father. I wondered if he would really allow me to manage the finances or if his salary without Fabienne’s pension would be enough for us to survive.

I have to admit that Fabienne’s offer to allow me to discipline her was intoxicating. I had only ever beaten my mother. That would not last long as both of them were due to appear before the Magistrate soon.

I asked her why, and she said that she had to prepare herself for the eventuality that she would be sent to the house of reform. She had already shaved her cunt bald, and it was apparent she had made this decision before I came to her bedroom. She handed me a leather strap and bent over her desk.

“I have not been beaten properly since your Grandfather passed away,” she said as she spread her legs and awaited the lash. It was strange to finally be able to spank Fabienne after the many times she had spanked me.

“You are sure you want this?” I said as I rubbed her buttocks.

“Maitre, Robert cannot do it, and you have been merciless with your mother. I have watched you grow into a young man. If you do not beat me hard before my trial, then it will be much harder for me when I enter prison!” she said.

“You could leave the country. You could hide out in the country. There are other options,” I said. I felt sympathy for Fabienne even though I wanted to spank her ass and use her body.

I smacked her ass with the lash, and she told me to spank her much harder than that. “Spank me like Connasse!” she begged. “Mr. Nicephore would send bounty hunters, and the Magistrate would eventually find me. I don’t have the money to travel abroad,” she admitted.

I briefly considered asking her to flee with us, but she seemed resigned to accept her fate. I wondered why Mr. Nicephore intended to ruin Fabienne’s life and what evidence he had.

“You’ve read my book Venus in Furs. I’ve noticed the pages were turned. You should know that I am Wanda, and he is my Gregor in that story. Mr. Nicephore likes to be beaten and humiliated in the manner of women’s corrections,” she explained. Men’s prisons were brutal and harsh but did not engage in the same sexual humiliations.

“Then let him come and be your pet,” I shrugged. They should both be happy.

“Mr. Nicephore’s wife discovered our trysts and threatened to expose him. The scandal would bankrupt him. He will testify that I blackmailed him and made him commit unnatural acts. Though I swear he was as willing as you are to discipline your mother,” she explained and thrust her ample buttocks towards me.

I had never heard of a man volunteering for sexual humiliation for his own pleasure until I read the book Venus in Furs. I understood what she was saying. It seemed entirely plausible Mr. Nicephore would turn on her in order to protect his livelihood and marriage.

“Are you so sure you so sure you will be found guilty? Perhaps they will show mercy?” I pointed out the many letters she had written, begging for clemency. I pulled her ass cheeks apart and inhaled the sweet smell of her sex before smacking her ass hard. I enjoyed the musky scent of Fabienne’s wrinkled cock trap. Her asshole also smelled like a warm parmesan cheese. It turned me on to take a deep whiff of her crinkled anus.

“I have no favors to call in and no money to offer. I am a miserable shrew of a woman. I will be lucky if I only get five years in prison,” she begged me to beat her harder and shove a rod up her ass. “You will visit me, won’t you?” she asked.

I promised her I would and shoved a rod up her ass. She let out a small yelp and asked me to apply wax to it first. “My asshole is not as lubricated or used to stretching like your mother! Please, for the first few days, will you be somewhat merciful?” she begged.

“You just told me to beat you like Connasse. Now, you have asked for mercy,” I demanded she make up her mind and wagged my finger in her face. The rod I shoved up her ass was quite thin by comparison to what I used on my mother.

“I am sorry, Maitre Guillaume! Do as you will! You have never shown restraint with your mother, and the guards won’t show restraint when I am in prison!” Fabienne spread her legs wider for me and exposed her dripping bald pussy lips to me. Her wrinkled cunt reminded me of a pink croissant glistening with sugary glaze. It was like a crinkum-crankum full of winding twists and turns.

I made her lay on her back and lift her legs and spread them for me. “Would you like some lashes on your bald cunt?”

“Oui, Maitre Guillaume! Right on the crack!” she answered politely.

Fabienne took another swig of brandy, and with tears in her eyes told me to do as I please with her as I began slamming the wooden rod down on her wet clit. I took the bottle from her and bound her hands behind her back. “We haven’t money to buy proper chains, thanks to your lack of planning!” I said.

“Yes, these will do! I won’t struggle, Maitre Guillaume!” Fabienne agreed that she bore responsibility for that as well. “I should have begun my Devoirs Des Femmes the moment I realized Mr. Nicephore would testify against me. It would make the loss of my dignity and the transition to prison correction much easier.

I tied a cord around her neck and led her downstairs. I tied her ankles and wrists together and raised her over the table to leave her swinging in an exposed manner. Fabienne stoically accepted this treatment and did not cry out. I knew she wanted to fuck, but I discovered denying her made her want it even more.

I searched her room. There were only a few Francs in the drawer. It was hardly enough to fill the pantry. I took the key to my mother’s locks and some clothes and brought them to her. When I told her what had happened, she laughed heartily. “I must see this,” she said as she quickly dressed. She did not put on undergarments. She told me where we were going, she wouldn’t need them.

I awoke my little sister while my mother went downstairs to gloat.

“What are you doing? Why are you in clothes, Slut?” Fabienne demanded.

“I am leaving this place! But before I do, I have some payback for you, Mother in Law!” my mother whipped Fabienne while she was vulnerable and bound. Fabienne spun slowly over the dinner table as my mother struck her ass and tits with a heavy wooden rod.

“You will never get away with this! The Magistrate will find you,” Fabienne spit vitriol at my mother.

“C’est la vie (Such is life), if it is my fate to be found, then I will be found. Until then, we shall be free!” my mother said.

“Connasse! You will never be free! Look, you did not even remove your chain collar!” Fabienne snarled as she struggled futilely to get free of the bindings that held her.

“My name is Madeleine, and I make it my parting gift to you,” she said as she unlocked the collar.

My mother told me that she would continue to obey me. I was nervous already that she would not keep our bargain. Connasse was the name Fabienne had given her. I was not overly concerned about my mother’s belligerent attitude. She deserved a little payback.

She locked the collar around Fabienne’s neck and then tossed away the key. She spit on her mother in laws face. “It might be pleasing to join you in prison just to watch you get water cured,” she laughed. She spit on Fabienne’s face repeatedly and into her cunt until it dripped with her saliva.

All the while, Fabienne cursed us both and warned us that we would never get away from justice or the law. I felt guilty, but it only increased my mother’s resolve to try anyway.

“We must go,” I told her. I had Nannette with me, and she was struggling to get away from me. I explained to her that we were leaving this place.

“Non! I don’t want to go!” Nannette pouted like the unruly, conceited girl that she is.

“You have no choice. If you stay here, you will starve or worse – you will become the plaything of Henri and Nicephore!” I insisted.

“I would never starve! Mamma would never allow that!” Nannette ran to the table where her Grandmother swung lewdly.

“You are cowards to run from the law! You should accept your fate and face your charges, Connasse!” Fabienne insisted sourly. She regarded us both with tremendous disdain. “Guillaume! How can you abandon your Father and your sister? You promised you would look out for her!” she reminded me.

“Yes, and I will! But we must go now!” I insisted we leave with the minimal possessions we could carry.

Nannette refused to go. My mother warned me she would likely become a whore if we brought her with us. I felt at least I could protect her if she was with me. If I left her alone here, the predators or the starvation would kill her. My mother begged me to leave her behind. “She doesn’t want to go. We cannot make her. The streets are rough for little girls,” she explained.

They would be rough for young boys like me too. I wanted to stay in the apartment I had grown up in. I wanted to continue my life as it was. However, with the revelation that Fabienne and Madeleine would be going to prison I knew it would never be the same here. My Father would likely be unable to afford our apartment, and we would have to leave anyway.

I also saw travel on the road through the eyes of a youth who had read many adventure stories. The book titled Adventures of Huckleberry Finn was currently quite trendy in France. Huck and Tom Sawyer are two American boys who became wealthy from their earlier adventures. Huck is placed under the guardianship of Widow Douglas and her strict sister Miss Watson. They attempt to civilize him, but he resists. His drunken father, “Pap” returns and abducts him. He takes him on a wild adventure with Nigger Jim.

I wasn’t sure if my mother was going to be my Pap or Nigger Jim or perhaps a little of both.

There were also dark stories of Paris streets. Charles Dickens and Victor Hugo painted a much bleaker picture of life on the street. We had begun reading Les Miserables in my class. I had recently read about the peasant Jean Valjean. He was released from 19 years of imprisonment in the Bagne of Toulon. He received five years for stealing bread for his starving sister and her family and fourteen more for numerous escape attempts. It sounded very much like the harsh punishments my mother and Grandmother were facing. Valjean was turned away by innkeepers because his yellow passport marks him as a former convict. He sleeps on the streets in dank misery and poverty.

I felt the youthful confidence of a naïve lad who has only ever known life in his Apartment that things would work out for us. I was a clever boy. With my mother’s wits and willing service, we could navigate whichever version of story was going to unfold for us.

We headed northeast on Rue de la Croix Nivert toward Rue Charles Lecocq. We left shortly before we expected my Father to come home. My mother stuffed the Dilator into Fabienne’s pussy and a brass tube down her throat to stifle her screams and left her there for him to find her. I imagined her disappointment when she learned that the key to her manacles was lost and she only had my Father to discipline her. Fabienne did not respect my Father and hen-pecked him so much that I almost wished I were a flea again so that I could observe quietly what happened in our house when he came home.

My mother moved quickly through the busy Paris streets. She seemed to have a destination in mind and moved with celerity. “How much money do we have Maitre’ Guillaume?” she asked me. Her tone was belligerent and caustic.

“We have a few Francs,” I informed her that I took Fabienne’s money for groceries. I felt guilty that we left nothing for my Father and Nannette, but it was a paltry sum. We would eventually go hungry, and so would they.

“Poor planning on your part,” my mother scoffed. “That tight bitch has more money hidden away somewhere. You could have shaken her down for the location! You could have started by looking up her fat ass!” she said.

“I don’t like your tone,” I scolded her. I packed the bare essentials that we needed for this trip. As well, as my copy of the Adventures of Huck Finn. I also brought Fabienne’s notebook (Devoirs Des Femmes) of disciplinary chores for my mother. She told me she would remain my slave but now she was being belligerent and pushy.

She laughed at me. “We are not at home. You can beat me later, Guillaume. Right now, we must find a place to hide out. I will earn more on my back,” she promised she would become a prostitute to support us.