Candacis — Ann Vremont

Each Rococo Single is part of an erotic collection (available as Rococo) from the final days before the French Revolution. The entries reveal the hidden lives of several of France's well-born daughters -- Beatrice, a willful noblewoman in lust with her mother's groom; Gabrielle, a virgin who surrenders to a masked lover; Lucille, a brazen temptress playing the repentant sinner; Veronique, a master manipulator betrayed by her own desires; and Candacis, one third of a forbidden love triangle. (Visit annvremont.blogspot.com for reading order.)

About Candacis

Having struck a bargain with her cousin Philipe to publish the private letters and diaries of other well-born women at the Sacred Heart convent, Candacis finds herself seduced first by their words and then by the newest noblewoman to seek refuge within the convent's walls. (3700 words)

Excerpt

Naked, she slipped into what passes for the tub on our floor of the convent. It was a tun barrel sawed down, its diameter so great we never fill it with more than a few inches of water. I mention the tub's details, Philipe, so you understand that, when she urged me to sit in front of her between her legs, there was no need for us to be so close.

No need, only a wish, but what manner of wish? My naïveté embarrassed me, and I waited motionless to find out what she would do next. She released the pins in my hair, the points of her nipples brushing against my back. As she moved I could feel the tickle of her thick fur against my bottom and I had to keep myself from moaning. From the diaries I have transcribed for you, I knew too well what my body's reactions were -- lust -- but I had never imagined a woman could incite such a feeling in me.

She reached in front of me for the soap and washcloth. Her breasts pressed flat against my back, her pubic mound full against my bottom and lower back. She dipped the soap and cloth in the water in front of me, between my legs. I recoiled slightly, only to find myself pressed more tightly against her.

“Move forward a little, Candacis,” she said.

I complied, my cheeks burning. Had I miscalculated her? Or had she abandoned her seduction of me seeing my boyish frame? I nearly cried out when she began running the soapy cloth over my back. And when her breasts, slick from soap, joined the soft caress of cloth, I began trembling.