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Brief and seldom-seen classic about a humble Russian girl of middling standing, married off to a debauched Russian rake. He squanders her dowry in a flash, but that was some wedding night.

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This page copyright © 2004 Olympia Press.


Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter I

As everything Russian appears to be the fashion nowadays, our readers will not be surprised if we transport them at once to the land of the Boyard, the knout, the steppes, and sables. Besides, we owe this much respect to truth, do we not? And we are confident moreover of pleasing.

Nadia dreamed of marrying one of the handsome generals of His Majesty's suite, dressed in a battle-general's uniform with epaulettes and shoulder knots of silver bearing the Emperor's monogram in gold. His age would be eight-and-thirty; his mustache would be beautifully waxed; he would have a good name, an established position, a dearth of military duties, and be continually at court. In addition, he would be deeply in love and ever ready to throw himself at her feet and kiss her hands, murmuring burning words of affection. It was not too much, surely, for Nadia to expect. She was, after all, very beautiful and of a sweet nature.

But it so happened that Nadia married General the Count Gregorio Stenoff, a gentleman of noble pedigree it is true, but one of the most reckless, dissipated rascals in Russia, and up to his ears in debt. Although Nadia's dowry amounted to 10,000 rubles amassed by her father, who was a grain merchant, Stenoff had deliberated a long time before deciding to marry her.

What a strange wedding night the poor girl passed! She was in bed, worn out with the extreme pressures of the day, when Stenoff invaded the nuptial chamber. She was prepared to welcome him modestly and bashfully, extend her hands to raise him to his feet, for she did not doubt that the Count would cast himself upon his knees, as was quite in keeping with the occasion, and kiss her feet with emotion and enthusiasm, but also with profound respect.

Naturally, she was quite eager to be loved as tentatively as she was herself prepared to love. The entire day, despite the tremendous focus on ritualized ceremony, had been spent in anticipation of this night. She was more or less ready for it. She was even ready for what she perceived as the Count's invasion of the nuptial chamber. Surely, these matters were inherently invasive in nature. It must not be forgotten that Nadia was superbly chaste. It could not, therefore, be anything other than invasive. But she believed that the loving new groom would be gentle and tender and patient. He would ease her into the frightening realities of womanhood. Surely!

Ah, but poor Nadia knew so little about the redoubtable Count Gregorio Stenoff's terrible ways. She was quickly to discover them. That first night, having burst into his tender young bride's chamber, the Count immediately threw himself upon her bed. He did so in such a way as to make the new bride not only gasp with surprise, but very nearly scream in terror. The Count was a large, physically prepossessing man when he was not emboldened by sexual desire; when he was, he was almost monstrously imposing. And, unfortunately for Nadia, he had absolutely no interest in making himself less frightening to the frightened young bride. He practically dove onto the bed, and then at once jumped up, hastening to divest himself of the full regalia of his uniform. The bride shielded her eyes from this scandalous behavior.

Not very gently did the Count then pull her hands away from her eyes.

“You might as well look,” he said brusquely. He held himself open to her timid inspection, his arms stretched out to his sides, his legs splayed, his manhood erect and fully revealed. Nadia looked; she gasped; she shut her eyes again.

“Oh!” she said. “Please!”

“Please what? Now open your eyes, wife. It hardly bodes well.”

Again, Nadia managed to look at her naked husband, and again, she gasped. He was indeed monstrously big. To Nadia, who was herself, rather dainty and delicate, he looked like a giant who meant to do her irreparable damage. She had never seen such a thing. She never even imagined such a thing! His chest was broad and strong. It tapered down to a narrower, yet wide waist. This was all well and good, but below that, well, that was frankly ghastly to look at! She could not look. She shielded her eyes again, and the Count again tore her hands from her face.

“What is it woman? Why are you so shy all of a sudden? You were certainly bold enough to marry me! I believe you have deceived me. Now look at me!”

The Count's cock stood proudly erect, an imposing thing in itself. Presently, he climbed onto the bed and knelt close to his new bride. He held the hard instrument before her face, and he forced her to look. Nadia recoiled from the sight of it. It seemed to visibly throb, like a live animal-like thing. The Count laughed and then kissed his new wife roughly on the mouth. His manner was that of a man who takes what suits him without asking. He did not ask now, but pressed his hot, moist mouth to Nadia's and forced her trembling lips open with his tongue. Nadia gasped yet again and tried to pull her head away, but the Count was persistent. He put his large hand to the back of her head, which fit perfectly in his palm, and pressed it forward. He pressed his lips to her lips. He drove his tongue toward her open, quavering throat. Nadia thought she would choke, but she could not escape him.

Finally, he drew his mouth away. His lips, which she had once admired for being full and beautiful, appeared now to be grossly sensual, swollen and forming an awful mocking sneer.

Nadia was terrified.

“Get undressed,” he ordered.

But he did not give her time to even consider the consequences of either refusing or complying. At once, he was back on her, kissing her long neck furiously, kissing her shoulders and the uppermost swell of her full, ripe breasts. He slipped one arm beneath the bedclothes and brutally pulled up the fine nightgown he had not given her time to remove. He cursed her under his breath for still having it on.

His rough hand was now on her naked skin beneath the nightgown, which she had worn modestly and with the modest hope that he would gradually ease it off her with tender words and prudent eyes. Oh, but this was nothing like she'd imagined! His wanton fingers strayed over the voluptuous, but private, contours of her hips, and when she tried to push him back, to thwart his rough hands, they only dug into her sensitive flesh, causing her to cry out.

The animal cries excited the Count enormously. He slid his hand from her hips to the polished, plush rotundity of her bottom. He squeezed and grappled the area lasciviously. Nadia felt like a whore he had purchased. It was too much for her to bear. She thought she would faint with shame and fear. His hands were locked on her. She could not budge them. They kneaded the voluptuous cheeks of her ass, squeezing them hard, seeming almost to reshape them indelibly. He was rough with her and her bottom stung and burned. He separated the asscheeks roughly with his hands, and then forced them hotly together again. His finger strayed along the deep, dark crease and Nadia contracted her muscles, recoiling violently.

Gregorio then moved his hand over the soft, flat abdomen and slipped his fingers unexpectedly along the lovely hot creases of her private female region. He pushed them between the folds, letting the tips sink in. He lightly pinched the soft outer folds as though trying to pluck them. Nadia, feeling his hot fingers snaking over her secret treasured flesh, hurting her with his little pinches, protested. At once, the Count's hand came up and covered her mouth.

“Wife!” he said. “And don't you forget it!” His voice was cruel and harsh and unforgiving. Nadia whimpered into his rough hand, which had just violated her virgin flesh. With his other hand, the Count continued to explore the hitherto unexplored region of her maiden sex. He parted the folds crudely with his fingers. He lingered between the hot lips, his libertine touch invading the warm, mossy covering of the pubis and sinking back into the warm, dark place.

Finally, Nadia managed to push his hand away and she closed her thighs, clamping them together tightly. The Count tried to penetrate her closed thighs with his hand, but she was strong and determined now. She was set against him.

Angered by her obstinate behavior, the Count threw aside the bedclothes and tossed them over the footboard. With one final, swift movement, he tore the nightgown away from Nadia's body, exposing at once the charms he was so greedy to possess. Poor Nadia was naked and vulnerably exposed to his greedy eyes. He began to kiss her, to almost devour her, with his hot, lascivious mouth. He followed the paths already traversed by his hands, imprinting ardent kisses on every spot. He kissed her long, fine arms, greedy to consume them; he kissed her neck, her jugular, and her mouth again. He kissed her furiously, thrusting his tongue between her lips and exploring the inner wet regions of her mouth. He kissed her shoulders, licking them passionately as he did, suckling the tight young flesh with his teeth.

The chaste Nadia, awkward and confused, defended herself with all her strength; and as he grasped with his lips the rosy tip of her breast, sucking it avidly, she repulsed him harshly and inflicted a long scratch on his face with her sharp nails.

Her squirming and writhing had served up till now to arouse him, but with this last repulsive gesture, Stenoff's ardor instantly cooled. He did not mind a good struggle, but he did not want to be battle-scarred either. He rose, resumed his uniform, and prepared to leave. Poor Nadia remained red and naked, crying on her pillow. Her young body quivered, reddened by his ardent groping.

“Are you going?” she asked feebly.

“I shall return when you are better educated.” His voice was cool and remote. Inwardly, he shook with anger and unfulfilled passion.

“What do you mean?” she demanded amid her tears.

“Ask your mother. If that excellent woman cannot enlighten you, I have an aunt in Paris. I shall send for her and place you in her hands. I can certainly attest to her talent as an instructor.”

With this, he walked out, leaving his wife as ignorant as when he had come.

The next day toward noon, Nadia thoughtfully examined her new accommodations. It was certainly a beautiful apartment, but somewhat peculiar. It resembled nothing she had ever seen in her parents' house, whose furniture, however, had been purchased from the foremost upholsterer on the Perspective. Her new room astonished and troubled her. It was large and high ceilinged, yet crowded in spite of its vast dimensions. Everything was done up in white and cherry, including the chairs and hangings, which were white satin tufted with cherry trim. But interspersed here and there were some odd pieces covered with violet. One of these in particular struck her as most extraordinary. It resembled a violin mounted on four legs. What could it be, she wondered. There was also a couch shaped like a shell, having cushions and a high back, where one could sit at ease. She tried both sofa and pillows, finding them elastic and downy. Then the bed! She remembered having seen something similar to it in an illustrated Bible ... Esther's bed, she thought. It was perched upon a wide platform, with gilt sphinxes at the corners. In front of each sphinx stood a tripod bearing a perfume pan of cloisonné. The whole was as cold and brilliant as an altar ... pretty indeed, but rather pagan. Something about it filled her with unease. To calm herself, she looked instead toward the windows. The curtains were so artistically arranged that they appeared to hang in natural folds, and when they were open—which had been done by her orders that morning—she saw through an immense window on the left, sunshine playing amid the trees in the park, while to the right, an enormous frame of clean glass revealed a greenhouse containing tropical plants.

With its pale carpet in a pattern of swans' wings, and the draperies in which white predominated, the room had an almost virginal aspect. Yet, there was some peculiarity about it that she could not define, and which caused her to reflect more deeply upon the occurrence of the previous night.

She remembered how the Count had come in, and how he had intrepidly shown himself to her, unembarrassed by his nakedness. She remembered his hard, masculine nakedness. Suddenly, her body began to respond oddly to this memory. She felt a vague warming in her loins. It was a warm, indefinite stirring she had not felt before. It was like an ache, or a distant, unreachable itch. She pressed her legs together and the feeling increased. But then she remembered also his cruel forcefulness, the angry way in which he had moved to possess her, and the strangely good feeling waned instantly.

Had it been, then, desire she was just beginning to feel at the thought of his strong, almost fierce masculinity? She wondered. She thought of him. He was handsome, she had to admit. His body was strong, fierce. Were she not so afraid of him, and had he not been so rough and cruel, she might have learned in no time how to love that fierce strength he contained. But she could not. She was too afraid of him.

Nadia shuddered to think of what would become of her, but resolved to make the best of things.

Three discreet taps at the door interrupted her reverie, and the butler announced, “Breakfast is served, Madame.”

“Is the Count in the dining room?”

“Yes, Madame, with his uncle, General the Prince de M-.”

Nadia went downstairs, determined to face her violator bravely.

As she opened the dining room door, she heard her husband's voice. “All settled, Uncle,” he was saying. “I'm to command the X Brigade. Heaven bless His Majesty, I shall not have to begin that over again.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“What I had to endure last night. I've been told that virtuous women are fools, but I never imagined their stupidity could be carried to such a length. You ought to have seen me—I who have never been repelled by a woman in my life!”

Stenoff here began to imitate his wife's flute-like accents: “Oh, the wretch! The idea of kissing me on the mouth! I received Holy Communion this morning!” He paused, laughing and groaning at once. “Pah,” he went on, “let them send me to Bucharest, Plevna, Chipka ... anywhere, rather than force me to remain with that woman!”

Nadia's entrance interrupted this conversation.

During breakfast, the young woman, red with shame, replied only in monosyllables to her husband and the Prince.

When the coffee was brought in, Gregorio announced to his new bride that the Emperor had authorized his uncle to promote anybody he chose to the command of the X Brigade, which was at present engaged in subduing a remote province of Transcaucasia. The only condition made was that the person selected should proceed at a once to his destination.

“I asked my uncle to give me the command,” said he. “My career ... my name ... you understand?”

Nadia was silent.

“I go this evening. My uncle will forward my commission. You do not mind my leaving you so soon, Nadia?”

“No, I shall try to educate myself during your absence.”

The two men exchanged a meaningful glance.

“You mentioned your aunt,” observed Nadia.

“An admirable person!” exclaimed the Count, bursting into a laugh. “Would you care to have me write to her?”

“Yes, please, do so at once; you might forget to in the haste of your departure.”

Gregorio wrote as follows:

My Dear Aunt,
I have married a pretty, stupid blonde woman. I can never do anything with her if you refuse to undertake her education. Do the best you can. I've done with her for the present.
Your affectionate nephew,

He carefully sealed the letter and gave it to Nadia, remarking, “My aunt will perhaps read you the contents some day.”

Prince de M- took his leave. After an intent look at her husband, Nadia inquired, “How many shirts shall you want in your valise?”

“Two thousand four hundred and seventy!” roared Stenoff, rushing from the room exasperated.

Chapter II

Notwithstanding the Count's assertion to the effect that he was going at once, he did not do so. The fact is, he wished to make one more attempt to rid his wife of her silly prejudices. He therefore postponed leaving until the following day, deciding to profit by the night that remained to him and to make a final effort to pluck the maidenhead of his chaste spouse. He also entertained the secret hope of fulfilling the biblical precept—“Increase and multiply”—by casting into the conjugal mould the seed of a little viscount.

The entire day was taken up with preparations for the journey, over which Nadia herself presided while the Count went out to pay farewell visits and receive orders relating to his new duties. His final stop that day before returning home was at the quarters of his longtime lover, a woman named Marie.

She was glad to see him. He had not been by since the preparations for his marriage had begun. The last time she had seen him, he spent hours lamenting that his financial and social situation forced him to marry Nadia rather than Marie. If he must marry—and it seemed that he must—then he would much rather marry the always-willing Marie, his mistress of low birth. Marie was beautiful, with long dark hair and olive skin and eyes the color of the night sky. She was devoted to the Count, and took supreme pleasure in pleasing him. What more could he ask for? Today, his spirits were low. He seemed agitated from the moment he was let into Marie's apartment.

“What is it, my darling?” she asked at once. “You seem so restless, so unhappy.”

“I admit I am,” he said, walking past her toward the window, which looked onto the street. “It is that stupid woman I married. A wretched creature!”

“Does she not please you then?” Marie asked, standing in the center of the room.

“Oh, I suppose when I am an old man she might please me by getting me used to death, but for now, I can't see how I shall endure it.” He turned away from the window and regarded the beautiful, ageless Marie. She was dressed in a simple peasant blouse and skirt. After many years, the very sight of her still aroused him. Her body was made for his; she seemed made for his pleasure. Just now, she was bathed in the golden afternoon light, illuminated like an ethereal forest nymph. He went over to her. For a moment, he stood simply with his hands on her arms, as though contemplating her simple beauty.

Then he drew her to his hard body and set his lips roughly to hers, kissing her passionately, but tenderly. His hand moved up her body till it reached...


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