From the Baroness's Diary: The erotic escapades of Baron Beardley's wife

Chapter 9

Collette's Gift

Mon Cher Journal,

Collette and Jean left yesterday morning and I am still reeling with all the things I have learned in her sojourn.

On that second day, after I had witnessed them making love, I headed to breakfast tongue-tied with timidity. My shyness and reticence fell away when I realized they hadn't the slightest idea I was there in their room and we spent marvelous days together.

Collette told me Jean had taken her to Egypt during their honeymoon and the account she gave of the city of Cairo, of the subterranean tombs, of the form and ornamentation of the sarcophagi, the mummy-cases, and the mummies themselves, were marvelous and left me dreaming of going there one day with Joseph. I have to write it all down so I don't forget all the details, but that is for another time.

Every afternoon after tea, Jean went to the library as a means of diversion and we retired to Collette's rooms to my lessons.

From her costumes and accessories to her poses, attitudes, and expressions, Collette is very coquettish. I can fairly say she mastered the subject of femininité to perfection. Together, we wrote to her Parisian and Londoners dressmakers and ordered a few new pieces for my wardrobe, such as lacy panties and push-up bras, negligées and nightgowns. She even gave me one of her transparent nighties as a gift. I thought I would never have the courage to use it, but...I am getting ahead of myself.

After she tacked my wardrobe, she began to teach me about seduction and we rehearsed a few moves. But, alas, I can't imagine myself pouting my lips and whispering sweet words to the baron. I guess I want to be seduced.

Anyway, I paid close attention to her advice.

"It's good to have sex in different positions, Chloé," Collette said. "We do it sideways, kneeling, and even...backwards."

"Backwards? How?" I asked, trying to imagine such a position.

She told me it was one of her preferred positions and as I watched open-mouthed, Collette crawled on the bed, positioned herself on her hands and knees, and explained how it was done. She extolled the merits of variety, although she said the missionary position—another technical term (!) I learned among many others—was good, too.

"Bring me a carrot for our next lesson," she ordered and on the next day, she showed me how to french a male member cock and made me practice it many times, pushing the large and big carrot further and further in my mouth until I was stuffed with it. I gagged but she urged me to learn, saying it would please my husband if I did that to him.

I also learned that a man could do the same for a woman. Collette assured me Jean loved frenching her.

I must confess I sneaked on them again on their last night here. The windows were not opened and I had to stand outside their bedroom on the freezing night, but through the curtain-veiled windows I could see them at it, with Collette on top of Jean. Soon I was not feeling any cold as I fingered myself and moved my hips as Collette did and achieved an even better orgasm than when with Joseph.

But the most exciting thing which happened these last days, didn't happen when she was here, but when she left.

You see, Jean took a few volumes to his room to read at night and when I went to put them back and did a little rummaging through the well-stocked shelves of the manor's library, I encountered a book in French that attracted my attention. I withdrew it from among its companions and by its cover alone, I could immediately see it was scandaleux!

Tittering, I idly thumbed the pages. They were uncut, but the chapter titles in the index fed my interest.

How it happened to be in the library of my...ah...puritanical and gentlemanly-minded husband, I guess I will never know. It was certainly due to some accident and beyond doubt he never so much as suspected the presence of this masterpiece of erotic literature in his staid and respectable collection of books.

Gathering all my courage and hoping Joseph would never know I had stolen borrowed that book, I hid the volume between two others and took it out to my sitting room to read it, away from my mother-in-law's prying eyes.

I cut the pages with a penknife and oh! I discovered it was illustrated with a series of crude etchings showing many a various positions.

I had not, up to this time, ever gotten my hands on any book of porno such a nature.

The story revolves around a woman whom a man is in love with, but she is too naïve and young and he fears scaring her with his advances. He convinces a mutual and very experienced friend to explain to the young lady his feelings and also to awaken her desire and to teach her a few things.

A multitude of topics including male and female genitalia—cocks and cunts—and sexual intercourse—fucking—are discussed. Then things get graphic as the plot moves to the effective deflowering of said young woman and her sexual experiences with her lover.

She is involved in many erotic situations so vividly drawn in their rendition that I was soon in a state of arousal. Before I had concluded many chapters I locked the door, sought the seclusion of my bedroom, and lay down on the bed to continue reading the story with comfort. Soon, I was holding the book in one hand and masturbating with the other.

The necessity of receiving my mother-in-law's friends for their daily meeting interrupted me before I had finished the story and I hid the book under the mattress of the bed. I patted cold water on my heated face, pasted a smile on my lips, and as the lady of the manor that I am, served tea for the dowagers and listened to their dowager gibberish, until I could bear no more. Pleading a headache as an excuse for my retirement, I returned to my bedroom.

Before I joined my husband for dinner—Joseph arrived this evening—I had read the book from cover to cover. And incidentally, I had fingered myself off three times. Yet, this orgy of masturbation, instead of calming my nerves seemed to have just the opposite effect, and that made me resolved to force an issue with my husband as soon as he stepped in my room. Less talk and more action. I thought that maybe that is what the baron was waiting for from me.

After Martha readied me for the night I changed into Collette's gift and instead of waiting for Joseph in bed, I laid down languidly on the divan mirroring one of Collette's poses, hoping for an amorous night.

Joseph's eyes almost bulged out of his head when he saw me. Blabbering and sputtering, he said I looked like a common bawdy woman, ordered me to dress properly and to return to the sitting room.

I wanted to disappear from the world, but obeyed him. He then proceeded on lecturing me on respectability. He was so flushed at my aborted seduction that he went back to his room without fulfilling his marital obligations!!

Bah! So much for my hopes on using Collette's lessons to better my sexual life.

I am doomed with a bored life of fucking—fucking! fucking! fucking!—for procreation.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

A hundred and one fucks!