Confessions of an English Maid (1937)

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Confessions of an English Maid (1937)Confessions of an English MaidbyJessie.London1937CHAPTER 1During the course of the years in which I have been more or less closelyassociated with other prostitutes I have frequently listened toexplanations as to just what this one or that owed her degradation; theparticular villainy to which she attributed her advent into a life ofshame. The usual story is one of seduction by a lover under theinevitable extenuating circumstance of “before I really knewanything,” with the occasional variation, “he put something in mydrink, and when I came too…” or, “he was stronger than I was and Icouldn’t do anything.” In these glib stories, in which none but theinconsequential details vary, the man is always to blame and the girl isnever a willing accomplice. She is always, by artifice, force ordeception, and subsequent abandonment, the victim of some man’sdepravity.I confess that I have listened to these tales and even witnessed a fewtears of self-pity, with a certain amount of scepticism. In thinking backover my own life I can find nothing which would serve as a validexcuse to shift upon somebody else the responsibility of my owncondition, nor can I in justice accuse any man of having instigated mymoral degradation, although the number of those who have takenadvantage of my voluntary delinquency is legion. True, were I tohypocritically search for some contributing factor with which to justifymyself in my own mind or in the minds of others, I might place someblame upon the environment under which I was raised as a c***d, yet, aconscientious analysis of my subsequent life leads me to no otherconclusion than that had these conditions been entirely normal Iwould still, just as water seeks its level, have drifted into a lifeanalogous to that in which you find me.I do not believe that character is made by environment or training. Iam something of a fatalist and it is my conviction that the seeds ofgoodness or badness, kindness or malevolence, virtue or viciousness,are implanted in the soul right from the beginning, and while someslight modifications either for better or for worse may be possibleunder varying circumstances, the net result will not be greatlychanged.In my c***dhood days I knew two brothers, sons of affluent parentshighly respected in the community. These two boys were raised underthe most favourable home and moral environment possible to imagine.The elder, always the personification of honour and circumspection,occupies a position of trust high in the affairs of the nation. Theyounger c***d of the same parents, raised under exactly the sameconditions and influences, early in life manifested all thecharacteristics of an irresponsible nature and is today being sought forhis participation in a robbery which culminated in murder. I know ofother such instances.I was seduced by no man, but I managed to get rid of my maidenheadbefore I was twelve years old. By the time I was f******n I had beenfucked by a dozen young fellows and several older men. I wasn’tinfatuated or deceived or coerced. I let them fuck me because it feltnice, because I liked it, and even the fact that shillings and even largersums of money could be easily and pleasantly acquired didn’t playany very important part in my complacency.I was eight and Rene, my foster brother, ten when mutual curiosityabout each other’s little sexual attributes first began to take the formof c***d efforts to unravel Nature’s mysteries. These efforts, which atfirst did not pass much beyond the observational stage, with anoccasional touching and fingering, were inspired more by curiositythan sexual promptings; nevertheless, we sensed more elements offorbidden fruit and exercised considerable caution in hiding ourselveswhen the impulse was upon us to gratify our curiosity.Under the roof of our home was an attic which was used as a sort ofstoreroom for discarded furniture and other odds and ends. Rene and Iconverted it into a species of playhouse.Access to this attic was gained by a steep and narrow stairwayenclosed between dark walls, and our parents rarely climbed thesestairs, and would have given us ample warning by their footsteps had itoccurred to them to do so; we felt reasonably secure, and alwaysrepaired to this obscure hideaway when the mood to do somethingnaughty was upon us.Mamma Agnes was not my real mother. My own mother had diedwhen I was four years old. With the practical philosophy of a widowerleft with a small c***d on his hands, Papa lost no time in acquiring anew wife, and in less than six months I had a mamma and a stepbrothertwo years older than myself.I lay neither censure nor praise at the feet of Mamma Agnes. She waskind to me in an indifferent way and I believe she cared as much forme as she did for her own c***d, Rene. She was simply not the maternaltype, and though she accepted the material obligations which ourpresence represented uncomplainingly and kept us clean and well fed,there existed an almost complete absence of anything in the nature ofmoral or spiritual upbringing. We were punished occasionally, butonly when our misbehaviour constituted an annoyance to others.For two years Rene and I slept in the same bed. When I was about six Iremember hearing Papa tell Mamma Agnes that we were too big to besleeping together. Mamma Agnes made some protest which I didn’tunderstand, but the next night a bed was arranged for Rene in anotherroom and thereafter we slept apart. I missed feeling Rene’s warm littlebody close to mine in the night and wanted to know why we were notto sleep together anymore. Mamma Agnes made an evasiveexplanation. “It isn’t nice for boys and girls to sleep together,” was thetactless reply which only served to kindle the restless fires of curiosity.During the next year or two some light, still of an obscure nature, wasthrown on the subject by other c***dren who were not adverse tosharing their knowledge with us.I was not supposed to see Rene’s dickey, and he likewise was notsupposed to see my cunny. This was the sum and substance, apparently,of the incomprehensive order of things which had abruptly terminatedour bed fellowship. And immediately we both began to feel the itch tosee what we were not supposed to see, and to which we had paid butscant attention when the opportunity had been freely at hand and unforbidden.The juvenile soul thirsts for knowledge-of a certain kind. What wasthe real basis of all this sly mystery about little boys’ dickies and littlegirls’ cunnies? “A boy puts his dickey in a girl’s cunny,” said one. “That’sthe way you get babies, only you can’t have a baby until you’remarried.” “When you rub your cunny it gives you a nice feeling,” saidanother.In the security of our attic hideaway Rene and I diligently sought theanswer to the mystery. The erstwhile playroom was converted into ajuvenile brothel. We dragged an ancient mattress from behind anaccumulation of wrecked furniture and laid it out on the floor. Istraddled out on this mattress with my legs apart while Rene lookedand fingered until his curiosity was temporarily satisfied and I wascompensated by being permitted to look at and squeeze his littledickey. It was a source of never-ending wonder to watch it go throughits erotic evolutions, expanding, swelling, hardening, until it projectedstiffly and rigidly forward. I tried to see whether, by holding it tightlyin my fist, I could prevent it from getting big, but in my grasp it seemedto grow even faster, easily displacing my clenched fingers and causingme curious, shivery sensations.Time and time again we tried to effect actual copulation, but there wassomething amiss, and the failure puzzled us. The playing, looking andfingering were pleasant, but there was something lacking, somethingsweet, something elusive which we sensed was close at hand but whichstill eluded us.Picture to yourself a group of twenty happy, carefree youngsters ofboth sexes, ages ranging from eight to twelve, their strident littlevoices ringing out in careless abandon as they pursue their innocentamusements, converting a refuse-strewn lot into an enchantedfairyland. Even the bloated loafers and derelicts of the street who casta casual glance at the little innocents must not fail to feel a twinge ofsentimentality.London Bridge is falling down,Falling down, falling down,London Bridge is falling down,My fair lay-dee.But, hark! There is more to the song. The shriller masculine voices takethe ascendancy, and little girls are heard only in a confusion oflaughter and giggling.Madge and Jerry are having a suck,Having a suck, having a suck,Madge and Jerry are having a suck,My fair lay-dee.After the suck they’ll have a fuck,Oh, what luck, oh, what luck,After the suck, they’ll have a fuck,My fair lay-dee.Out of a house whose open windows are in close proximity to themerrymakers bursts an old Irish woman, brandishing a broom, herwrinkled face suffused with rage.”Git out o’here ye narsty little spalpeens or I’ll swab yer dirty, stinkin’mouths fer ye, blarsted little imps o’Satan!” she screams as twenty pairof feet fly in twenty different directions under the menace of thebroom in the hands of the scandalized old beldam.When I was about eleven, Pap’s earning capacity was so reduced bydrunkenness that Mamma Agnes was obliged to take in a boarder. Thebest room of the house, the one which had formerly served as a parlour,was converted to the purpose and rented to a Mr. Peters.Mr. Peters, a watchmaker by occupation, was a gentleman of forty-fiveor thereabouts who radiated jollity and good nature and whoprofessed a great love for c***dren. He took an immediate fancy to meand soon pennies and farthings began coming my way in anabundance I had never before known. Mr. Peters constantly called onme to run trifling errands for him, a package of fags, a penny paper, abottle of ale, and these small services were invariably rewarded withsome fulsome compliment, an affectionate pat on the cheek and a coinof modest denomination.As our friendship progressed, his amiable affection took the form ofplayful caresses, squeezings, and pettings. This did not trouble me and Iwas observant enough to note that the affectionate overtures weremore pronounced and subsequently more remunerative when we werealone. So I was soon watching for opportunities to be near him when noone else was around, especially when Mamma Agnes was out with hershopping basket.On such occasions he took me in his lap and as his hands rovedceaselessly over my body he filled my ears with a running fire ofpleasant flattery. My legs seemed to be the principal objects of hisadmiration and as he pinched and squeezed them playfully toemphasize his words, his good-natured, florid face would become stillmore florid and little beads of perspiration would appear on hisforehead.One day Mr. Peters surprised me with the following observation:”Well, bless me, if our little Jessie isn’t getting prettier and prettierevery day. Such legs… such legs. Do you know,” he continued, as hepassed his hands appraisingly down over my hips and thighs, “I have asuspicion that you aren’t really a girl at all. Girls don’t have such finelegs as these. I’ll bet you’re a boy instead of a girl.””Boys don’t wear dresses or have long hair,” I exclaimed.”A-a-a-h!” he answered, with a knowing look, shaking his fingersceptically in my face, “that could be just to fool people! A boy couldwear dresses and let his hair grow long. Yes…” he mused abstractedly,”the more I think about it, the more I believe you’re really a boydressed in girl’s clothes.”I am so a girl!” I protested indignantly.”I’ve had my suspicions for a long time,” he continued, ignoring myprotestations. “Tell you what,” he added confidentially, “I’ll lay you ashilling you’re really a boy!””Very well!” I exclaimed, excitedly. “You can ask Mamma Agnes!””Oh, no!” he objected hastily. “She’s not here now and besides shemight be on your side and say you’re a girl anyway.””Well, who are you going to ask?””Hum-m-m-m-m,” he murmured, pausing in thoughtful meditation.”There ought to be some way we could settle the bet without askinganybody.”I waited expectantly.”Ha! I’ve got it!” he exclaimed, as a happy solution of the perplexingproblem suddenly occurred to him. “But remember now, if I win youmust pay me the next shilling you get! I’ve got mine right here now topay you if I lose!” And he fished a shiny new shilling from his pocketand displayed it before my eyes.”Yes, yes!” I answered eagerly. “I’ll pay you if I lose! The very nextshilling I get! How are you going to tell?””Why, that’s easy,” he replied. “Funny we didn’t think of it at first. Boyshave a… ah… a little sort of dangle between their legs… right there… andgirls haven’t any. Now all you have to do is just unfasten your pantiesand we’ll take a peek. And remember, if you’ve got a dangle, like Ithink you have, you must pay me the next shilling you get. I’ll trust youfor it!”Although I was momentarily confounded by this bizarre but quiteobvious method of resolving the question, my eagerness to prove theinjustice of his accusation, coupled with the prospect of so easilygaining a shilling, outweighed any small scruples I may have feltabout exposing my cunny to him, and without a word I raised my shortdress, unfastened my panties and pulled them down low enough toreveal the deciding factor between femininity and masculinity.Somewhat to my surprise Mr. Peters’ doubts were not immediatelydispelled. His flushed face took on a deeper hue and he seemed to behaving some difficulty in speaking. He suggested that I remove mypanties entirely so he could see better and when this was done it wasnecessary for him to make a most thorough inspection before he wasfinally convinced that I didn’t have a dangle hidden between mythighs.After quite a lengthy examination, during which he seemed almost onthe point of suffocation as his fingers lingered about my cunny,pressing, feeling, exploring, he sighed deeply and reluctantlyconceded his defeat, confessing himself in error. My sex wasvindicated, established and proved beyond any reasonable questionand his repentant sorrow at having doubted it resulted in an extrashilling in addition to the one originally posted.When Rene came home I jubilantly displayed the two pieces of silver,explained their origin and told him how Mr. Peters had even thought Imight have a dangle tucked up inside my cunny. My account of theincident seemed to make him restive and a few minutes later hesuggested that we go up to the attic to play.The truth was that Mr. Peters’ insistent feeling and fingering had leftme with an odd sort of itching in my cunny. It felt excessively moist andhot, and I agreed to Rene’s suggestion with alacrity. We slippedupstairs and, following our usual routine, I took off my panties and laydown on my back on the old mattress with my knees up and widelyapart while Rene nudged and punched at me with his stiff little pintle.His erratic movements frequently brought the tip against the upperpart of my cunny and each time it pressed or rubbed against a certainspot I felt an agreeable tremor. To capture this elusive sweetness Ireached down and, taking his dickey in my fingers, I held it against thesensitive spot. There was a little bump of flesh there which swelled andtwitched and instinctively I rubbed the end of his dickey against it.The pleasant feeling again permeated the whole lower part of mybody, sending such a delicious radiation surging through my nervesthat I trembled violently. The sensation culminated with a suddenburst of delight which caused me to moan and gasp in ecstasy. I hadexperienced my first real orgasm.I had always loved and admired my foster brother Rene. He washandsomer than most boys. He had beautiful dark brown curly hairand his skin was white and smooth. When he effected my first orgasmsomething was awakened in me which changed the affection tocomplete adoration. I do not think I have ever loved anyone more, oreven as much as I loved Rene.I gave him one of the shillings I had won so easily, and as I continued toexpiate on Mr. Peters’ supreme ignorance, he threw me a pitying lookand exclaimed:”Are you balmy? He knew you were a girl! He just wanted to get tolook at your cunny.”The light dawned on me, but the two shillings dimmed any feeling ofchagrin, and even a hazy thought of future exploitation half-formeditself in my mind. I had long since sensed the fact that Mr. Peters’interest in me was rather more than casual. If he had given me the twoshillings just to look at my cunny, maybe he might want to look at itagain sometime.There was probably something in my eyes which betrayed thisexpectation to Mr. Peters, for when I again had an opportunity to slipinto his room, he arose hastily and snapped the catch on the door.Returning to his chair he drew me between his knees and as I stoodthere he passed his hands caressingly down over my body from myarmpits to my knees, and when they ascended they were under mydress instead of outside. He stroked my bare thighs above the tops ofmy stockings and all the while a ceaseless flow of words fell from hislips as though with this he sought to distract my attention from themovement of his hands.”Well, well, well, who’s here but pretty little Jessie, come to cheer uppoor old lonely Peters. My sweet little cabbage. She’s lonely, too.Mamma Agnes is gone and Jessie’s all alone in the big house… isn’t she…?” He paused, waiting for my nodded confirmation. “Well, well, well.We’ll have a nice little chat in here all by ourselves.”His hands had worked up inside the loose legs of my panties and hisfingers were squeezing the cheeks of my bottom.”Such a pretty, clever little girl… such legs… ‘He withdrew his hands after a final affectionate squeeze and raisedthem to the elastic band which sustained my panties about my waist,and in a moment I felt them being slipped down over my hips.I waited expectantly.When the panties were down and hanging loosely about my knees, Mr.Peters put an arm around me, drew me closer, and the next instant hishand was cupped over my cunny. This manoeuvre surprised mesomewhat, for I supposed he intended to look at it again. But no,something different was going to happen. The hand pressed over mycunny began to move with a gentle grinding motion, and almost atonce those delicious feelings which the tip of Rene’s dickey hadpreviously evoked began again. Involuntarily, I glanced toward Mr.Peters’ lap. Along the inside length of his trouser leg was an enormousswelling.As I fixed my astonished gaze on it I could see the cloth jerking underthe spasmodic expansions and contractions underneath. But therapidly increasing intensity of the pleasurable sensations which werenow tingling through my body under Mr. Peters’ manipulations sooncaused me to forget everything else. As the climax approached myknees began to tremble and when it reached its zenith, releasing thoseindescribably delicious thrills to go shooting through my body, Iswayed dizzily. Mr. Peters was still talking, but I no longer knew whathe was saying.When Rene came home I had another shilling to show him. He listenedattentively to my account of just what had happened and wanted meto show him exactly what Mr. Peters had done to me. I took off mypanties and placed his hand in the same position in which Mr. Petershad held his. Although the contact of Rene’s soft little hand was muchmore agreeable than Mr. Peters’ hard and calloused palm, my sexualorgasm, probably exhausted by the thorough masturbating I hadundergone, refused to respond to Rene’s efforts.However, his own emotions were aroused by the pantomime and,yielding to his command, I lay down on the mattress and let himstraddle me while he nuzzled and poked at my cunny with his littlecock. I took it in my fingers to press it against the spot which was mostresponsive to its touch and it was while holding it thus that Rene’smovements suddenly became more precipitate.”Squeeze it tight!” he gasped.I turned my eyes toward his face. It was strained and tense and hisbreath was short and panting. Something of his emotion infected meand prompted quite by instinct, I clutched his stiff little dickey tighterand began to work it with my fingers. It was no longer even in contactwith my cunny but sliding in and out of my clenched fist.His legs stiffened rigidly and his movements, except for a finalconvulsive shudder, ceased. At the same instant I sensed the presenceof some warm, moist substance in my hand. I looked at it wonderinglyand found my palm and fingers sticky with a milky, viscid fluid.One night, a week or so later, Rene and I were alone in the house. Papararely came in before midnight and was generally so tipsy thatMamma Agnes would have to put him to bed. On this occasion she hadgone to visit a sick friend and did not expect to return until quite late.Mr. Peters had heard something of this and had whispered to me that Ishould not go to bed until he returned as he was sure he would wantme to go on an errand for him.He came in about nine o’clock and after confirming Mamma Agnes’absence, sent me to the corner to get a paper with instructions to bringit to his room when I came back. I had already communicated to Renemy suspicion that Mr. Peters would “do something” to me when I tookthe paper into his room, and Rene was going to peek through thekeyhole. It even occurred to me to take off my panties before going in.My juvenile intuition was quite correct and Mr. Peters masturbated meagain while I stood between his knees holding my dress up and myfoster brother Rene crouched outside the door watching through thekeyhole.Poor Mr. Peters. He never attempted to do anything except play withme in this fashion and whether it was in his mind to venture further asmy sexual instincts unfolded will never be known, for one day, lessthan three months after his first tentative overture, he was knockeddown by an omnibus and carried to a hospital where he died withoutever regaining consciousness. I cried heartily when it was known thatwe would never see him again and his simple effects were packed upfor removal. In my estimation he was a kindly and generous soul whohad been the fount of many blessings.A short time after Mr. Peters’ departure, a neighbourhood scandal wasbruited about among the residents of the vicinity. Down the street, inthe big house on the corner, lived a retired sea captain and his ratherlarge family. They were rated as well-to-do and employed amaidservant, a cute little thing whose trim, silk-clad legs, blackuniform and lace-edged apron I had always secretly envied.Among the younger c***dren of his household was a boy namedLeonard and a girl named Maisie. Leonard was about the same age asRene, but was undersized and wore glasses which gave his wizenedcountenance a peculiarly owlish aspect. Maisie was very pretty. Shewas two years younger than I. Both these c***dren were precocious. Itwas said that Maisie would show her cunny to any boy who wanted tosee it and Leonard bragged that he fucked the maidservant wheneverhe felt like it. There was some doubt as to the veracity of this, but thedoubt was dispelled abruptly when the maidservant suddenlydisappeared and the older c***dren of the household whispered intothe ears of their special confidants that she had been summarilydismissed after having been caught in the very act of suckingLeonard’s dickey while supposed to be supervising his bath.”She had it right in her mouth when Mamma caught her!” theywhispered impressively.Rene pressed Leonard for details when the opportunity laterpresented itself, and listened to an entirely frank exposition of theaffair, which he then communicated to me.The liaison with the maidservant had been started several monthspreviously by the versatile little maid herself. Each night, on tuckinghim into bed, she had been in the habit of putting her hand under thecovers to see whether he had a hard-on. Inasmuch as such was almostinvariably the case, and the condition not being favourable in heropinion to sound sleep, her remedy was to reduce the rigidity by meansof a hand massage to make it “lie down and go to sleep.”One night she told Leonard that her efforts to make him sleepy werehaving a contrary effect on her and that she couldn’t go to sleep forhours after having put him to sleep. There was a way both could havetheir sleeplessness cured. She would slip into his room later that nightafter everybody was in bed and explain it to him. She squeezed hisdickey to make sure it was in its usual state of erection but refrainedfrom taking the customary measures to make it lie down.When all was quiet in the household she slipped into his room like alittle ghost in her white nightgown, threw the covers back and laydown by him. Taking his dickey in one hand she worked it until it wasin its maximum state of rigidity. With the other she guided his fingersbetween her legs and with various motions and whispered instructionsshowed him how to reciprocate the message.”Her cunny has hair all around it, just like a grown-up person,”confided Leonard.After a while she stopped the rubbing and told him to get on top of her.When he was in the proper position she started his dickey in the rightdirection and, poppo! It went inside, just like that.At this juncture in the recital, Rene interrupted to clear up a confusingpoint. Had Leonard’s dickey gone clear in, or had it just sort of rubbedalong her cunny?Emphatically, it had gone in, entirely and completely, not a bit stayedoutside. He was sure and specific on this point. It was dark that time,but they had done it subsequently in the daytime when he could evenlook down and see it while it was going in and out, and it absolutelywent clear in.The story of Leonard’s relation with the maidservant progressed fromfrigging to fucking and finally to the last act, in which the unexpectedentry of his mother into the bathroom while he was enjoying, and notfor the first time, the delights of being sucked off by the versatile maidhad brought an end to the fun.Now the maid was gone and he was obliged to massage his dickey forhimself at night in order to make it lie down and go to sleep.The sucking part was rather incomprehensible to Rene and me. Wewere still rank novices in the arts of love and had much to learn. It wasa cause of preoccupation to us that we hadn’t been able toapproximate anything like the success Leonard and the maidservanthad achieved. Rene’s dickey simply couldn’t find its way in. We knewin theory that it should, and we had both peered and looked andfingered in an effort to find a hole big enough. There didn’t seem to beany, or if there was, it was closed up very tightly.With the candidness of youth Rene confided the difficulty to Leonardand Leonard promptly offered to show him how to do it. I neverobjected to anything Rene proposed, and submitted myself obedientlyto the demonstration. Leonard knew no more about maidenheads thanRene but he had the confidence which comes with experience andwhen I took off my panties and lay down on the mattress he placedhimself between my knees and got his dickey which, despite hisslighter stature, was fully as big as Rene’s, against my cunny. He gave alunge, and a shriek escaped my lips which, had there been anyone elsein the house at the time, would have brought an investigation. Hisdickey had gone in all right, but the sensation I experienced was farfrom being conducive to further experimentation. After the first shriekof pain I began to cry, the tears rolled down my cheeks and I struggledto release myself.Panic-stricken at the unexpected results, Leonard jerked away fromme and his dickey came out stained with a reddish fluid and a fewdrops trickled down the inside of my thighs. Leonard was so frightenedthat he fled from the scene, leaving Rene and me alone.The pain was only momentary and as it died away I stopped crying,but gazed with fright at the spots of blood which stained the whiteflesh between my thighs. Rene dabbed at them nervously with hishandkerchief, and when no more appeared some of our assurancereturned, but I was aggrieved because of the stab of pain I had suffered.When I stood up a feeling of soreness in my sexual parts was verypronounced. Fortunately, Mamma Agnes made no embarrassinginquiries when she found me in bed at an hour much earlier than myaccustomed one, and by the following day the soreness had mostlypassed away.Thus I lost my maidenhead with pleasure neither to myself nor to myviolator.Having my hymen punched out in so disagreeable a manner withoutknowing exactly what had happened except that it was somethingdecidedly unpleasant resulted in a reluctance on my part to lendmyself to further exploitations which lasted for some weeks and mighthave endured longer had not my emotions been stimulated anew by acurious incident.While rummaging through a pile of trash, old newspapers anddiscarded magazines which had been swept out of a long-vacanthouse nearby, Rene found a little green-covered book which, on beingopened, disclosed to his startled eyes a picture which confirmed thebasic theory of love. It was a rather neatly executed sketch showing abeautiful young lady reclining upon a grassy mound under a tree. Herdresses were drawn up, she had no panties on, and above the edge ofher disordered and half-open bodice peeped a pair of bubbies of mostastonishing proportions.Between her thighs, half-lying, half-kneeling, with one of her silk cladlegs thrown over his hips, was a young boy. From his middle projected adickey which penetrated and was lost to sight for half its length in hercunny, the protruding lips of which were plainly indicated just below aprofusion of curly black hair.As soon as he recovered from the shock this picture caused him, Renestreaked for home and excitedly signalled for me to follow him to theattic. Breathlessly we gazed at the picture, then turned our attention tothe text which accompanied it. As we devoured the printed pages Ibecame aware of that moist, swollen, itchy feeling in my cunny. Thedesire to experience anew the delicious sensations which Mr. Peters’finger on several occasions, and the tip of Rene’s dickey on others hadafforded me began to surge through me and grow more and moreinsistent as we slowly digested the revelations contained in thebooklet and which were phrased quite within our powers ofcomprehension.The title which graced the story was: “The Passionate Governess, orHubert’s First Fuck.” Before that book finally left our possession wehad read it so many times either of us could have recited it word forword by memory.It was about a beautiful young governess in a wealthy home whoentered into amorous adventures with one of her charges, Hubert, aboy of fifteen. After a number of tantalizing episodes, in one of whichshe catches Hubert peeking through the keyhole and masturbatinghimself while she is bathing, she decided to gratify his curiosity andsave him from the vice of masturbation by letting him have sexualintercourse with her.The scene chosen for the sweet lesson in love is a beautiful sylvanglade reached by crossing a lake in a rowboat. As the pretty governesssits in the prow of the boat with Hubert at the oars facing her, shecarelessly permits her skirts to become so elevated above her kneesthat Hubert is afforded a delightful opportunity to peek between herlegs and get teasing glimpses of the charms only half concealed underthe frilly lace of her panties. Under the stimulation of this enticingsight he is in a suitable condition for his initiation in the rites of love.After exciting preliminaries in which passionate kisses, caresses andfondling of each other’s sexual parts are indulged in, and during whichHubert’s curiosity regarding the more intimate aspects of feminineanatomy is completely satisfied, the real initiation takes place asshown in the illustration, and Hubert learns that the delightsattendant to plunging his dickey into the mossy glen between a prettygirl’s legs are far superior to those he had formerly experienced inmasturbation.It was a story with a moral, as you will have observed, intended todiscourage young people from practicing self-abuse.When we had finished the last page I felt moist and sticky and itseemed to me that my panties were wet. Rene’s trousers were jutted outin front in a way which showed what effect the story had had on him.He looked at me, and I looked at him.”Shall we?” he whispered.”Yes!” I answered, all recollection of the pain I had suffered the lasttime this attic had been used for purposes of fornication completelyobliterated.While Rene was unfastening his trousers I kicked off my panties andlay down on the soft mattress. My emotions had been greatly excitedby the vivid little story and the first touches of Rene’s dickey againstthe moist flesh of my cunny were indescribably sweet. For a fewmoments I lay there languidly thrilling to the soft friction and pressureas the tip of his dickey roved about over the sensitive area like aperson groping for a door in the dark. But suddenly I stiffened in alarmfor I distinctly felt the constriction which accompanied an actualpenetration and which brought back to my consciousness what hadhappened before.With muscles tensed in readiness to free myself with the firstindication of pain I held my breath and waited. But there was no pain.To the contrary, the sensations I felt as Rene’s dickey slipped furtherinto the tight little hole were more agreeable than anything I had yetexperienced.I moaned, not with pain this time, but with delight, and the nextmoment, actuated by those natural instincts which need no previousexperience nor teacher to guide, we were both frantically heaving ourbottoms up and down in an effort to taste without delay the supremedelight of which the intoxicating thrills now tantalizing us were butthe forerunners.It comes but once in a lifetime, that indescribable, celestial glow whichsuffuses the souls and blends the bodies of lovers in unforgettablerapture, the first perfect sexual union of two beings who feel towardeach other the tender passion of youth unmarred as yet by maturity’sgrosser complexities, and I affirm that those who have not tasted thefruit of love under these conditions have missed what is probably life’ssweetest experience.Rene and I had finally succeeded in unlocking the door which hadhitherto obstructed our progress and with the unlocking the latentgerms of sensuousness, undoubtedly implanted in my very soul, sprangrapidly to full bloom. My ardour exceeded his, and it was I who nowsuggested and even begged frequent visits to the dusty attic where,with my panties off and my dress up or entirely removed, I writhed andsuspired ecstatically in response to his vigorous thrusts. And; after adelicious orgasm had rewarded our efforts, I sighed inwardly withregret at the inevitable transformation his little cock underwent,dropping slowly but surely downward, its virile rigidity degeneratinginto a flaccid inertia which incapacitated it from further immediateuse.CHAPTER 2We now had plenty of time to be alone. There was no tenant for theextra room and Mamma Agnes was working out, with the result thatwe had several hours at our disposal between the time school was overand the hour at which she returned.One day while we were standing on the sidewalk in front of the houseLeonard appeared. Leonard, being entirely in Rene’s confidence, hadbeen appraised of the new state of affairs. He had intimated that hewould like to try it again with me, which intimation I had listened towith no great enthusiasm, not through chaste reluctance, but becauseof the still lingering recollection of what had happened the first time.I was still in ignorance of the exact physical facts and blamed him forthe pain I had suffered. After some desultory conversation theenterprising Leonard suggested that the three of us proceed to theattic and have a hoochy dance. If you are familiar with juvenileparlance you may know that a hoochy dance is a simple butinteresting form of entertainment in which the participants take offtheir clothes or “get naked” as they express it, and either with handsjoined or independently, will jump and cavort in a circle in a sort ofprimitive dance.The element of attraction in this otherwise inspired diversion beingthat the boys can look at the girl’s cunny and the girl can look at theboys’ dickies. “And…” continued Leonard, after contributing thissuggestion for a pleasant manner in which to pass the afternoon “…afterwards, you can fuck Jessie and I’ll look, and then I’ll fuck her andyou can look.”As for me I was entirely agreeable to the first part of the program, andopen to acceptance on the latter. It was Rene who interposed thelogical objection that three of us weren’t enough to properly stage ahoochy dance and we set to speculating as to the possibility of gettingadditional recruits. A hurried inventory of acceptable prospects onlybrought to light that this one was not at home, that one was sick, andanother being “kept in” as a disciplinary measure, etc. It seemed therewas little hope of rounding out the party on short notice and as a lastrecourse, Leonard rather apologetically suggested that maybe we’d besatisfied with Maisie.This was a thought. Maisie had never participated in any of our doingsbecause being younger than the rest of us we looked down upon herfrom the vantage of our maturity and wisdom as being just a k**.Nevertheless, Maisie had earned quite a reputation of her own andLeonard made no secret of the fact that before his ideas had beenbroadened by the vanished maidservant he had often diddled his littlesister. He looked on hopefully while Rene studied the suggestion.”Can you find her?” queried Rene.”Sure I can, if you’ll wait for me!” responded Leonard.”Well, all right, then. Hurry up!”In less than five minutes Leonard was back with Maisie in tow. She wasa beautiful little thing and her eyes were shining with elation at theidea of being permitted to participate in older c***dren’s secrets.”Now we’re going to have a hoochy dance in our attic,” explainedRene, addressing her. “If we let you come, you won’t tell, will you?””No, no! I won’t tell, ever!” she exclaimed vehemently. “I’m not atattletale, am I, Lenny?” she added, turning to her brother forcorroboration.”No, she won’t tell. She knows bloody well we’ll knock her block off ifshe does!” responded Leonard with menacing emphasis.Up to the attic we trooped and with much giggling and laughterbegan to undress. True to the usual formula of feminine hypocrisy,Maisie and I both made a great show of being concerned about theboys seeing us before we were “ready” and chided them hystericallyfor peeking while we were undressing.This incitation had its natural effect upon the two boys and when wefinally faced them, every stitch of clothing removed from our whitelittle bodies, their cocks were standing out in stiff and rigid excitation.We dragged the mattress to one side and, joining hands, began ourhoochy dance, which consisted of nothing more complicated thanswinging around in a circle and jumping up and down to theaccompaniment of some ribald verses which we repeated over andover while the feminine eyes of the contiguity were fixed on jigglingdickies which bounced up and down with the violent movements oftheir owners, and the masculine ones on fat-lipped, hairless littlecunnies.When we had finally exhausted our acrobatic and musical repertoirewe sat down, breathless, to rest and devise further exploits. Leonardwanted to fuck me while Rene and Maisie looked on, and then havethe arrangement reversed with him and me the spectators while Renefucked Maisie.I protested that it hurt with him and expressed a preference to do itwith Rene. My protest was partly actuated by something akin tojealousy. Somehow, I didn’t exactly relish the idea of Rene fuckingMaisie. But Rene intervened, and his word was law. It wouldn’t hurt menow if I did it with Leonard. I was used to it now.And so, with Leonard crouched on one side and I on the other, bothwatching with wide eyes, my foster brother Rene straddled Maisie’snaked body, got his cock into a crevice which fitted around it like atight little ring of flesh and, without a mishap or indication ofdiscomfort on her part, fucked her until he had an orgasm.Maisie never stirred or made a sound. She just lay there quietly,looking up into his face with her big, wondering eyes until he hadfinished and then calmly wriggled out from under him, sat up andmurmured:”Now it’s our turn to watch!””Didn’t it make you feel nice, Maisie?” I asked in some astonishment ather placidity. “When Rene and I do it, T just tremble all over, it makesme feel so good!””Sure, it makes me feel nice. I like to do it!” affirmed Maisie, but it wasapparent that she had not yet experienced a real orgasm, even thoughLeonard had long since gotten her maidenhead out of the way.With some inward misgivings I submitted to Leonard’s ministrationsand, of course, quickly discovered that my fears were groundless, forhis dickey was in almost before I knew it, and this time without causingme any pain. Not counting Leonard’s previous attempt, this was thefirst time I had been really fucked by any boy except Rene and,despite my affection for him, the novelty of a new cock had itsemotional reaction and very quickly brought my quivering organismto that delicious borderland wherein for a few seconds the sensesvibrate in ecstatic anticipation before definitely rendering theirdelicious offering. Another wiggle or two served to precipitate theejaculation.I was about twelve years old when what I have just related occurred. Afew days later, on the way home from school, a boy named Bryansidled up to me and rather timidly asked me if I would do it with him.Bryan was a boy I would have described as nice. He was f******n orfifteen, always dressed very neatly, had a pleasing personality andagreeable features. To say that I was not surprised at the overturewould be an exaggeration, yet I was not displeased. If I had any doubtsas to precisely what he meant by “do it” with him, the doubt wasdispelled with one look into his flushed face and averted eyes and theuneasy, furtive glances he cast about as though to assure himself thatthere was no one else within hearing. Nevertheless, to delay an answeruntil I could gather my confused thoughts, I murmured innocently:”Do what with you?””Aw, you know what I mean, Jessie!””No, I don’t!””Something nice… like you did with Lenny Connors!”His reference to Leonard caused me a slight chill of apprehension, butdid not entirely prejudice me against him. He continued to coax, and I,beginning to enjoy the thrill of being begged for something with suchhumility, neither definitely denied nor promised my complacency.”Where could we go to do it?” I asked evasively.His answer to this revealed the fact that he was well informedregarding my private life and affairs.”Couldn’t we go up to your attic before your mamma comes home?” hesuggested hopefully.This was something Rene would have to be consulted on, so I evaded adirect answer by saying I’d tell him the next day, and with that Iskipped off.”Bryan wants to do it with me. Shall I let him?” I asked Rene.”Bryan? Bryan who?””Bryan Thompson, that boy that lives over on Little Goose Neck Road.”Rene considered the matter for a moment and deciding apparentlythat it was of insufficient importance to trouble his head over,disclaimed responsibility with an indifferent shrug.”Oh, I don’t know. Do what you want. What do I care?””He knows about Leonard and me. I bet Maisie… ‘”Gee! You better do it with him so he won’t tell. I got to go now and seea chap. Goodbye.”And so it came about that Bryan’s name was added to my now growinglist of youthful paramours. He was bigger than Rene or Leonard, andhad something which neither of the other two possessed, a growth ofdark, crisp hair on his pubic regions. He hurt me a little, but he wascareful and despite the slightly painful distension I soon began to feelthe warm, sensuous tremors which precede orgasm. His slow, cautiousthrusts brought my organism to a, pitch of excitation such as I had notyet experienced, and when the climax came I almost fainted with theintensity of the ecstasy. Afterwards, he showed me where myfingernails had actually cut into his flesh while I was hugging him inthe crisis. He was a very gentlemanly little fellow and thanked me inthe most courteous and serious manner imaginable for having let himdo it to me. In addition, he made me glow happily by telling me that Ihad the prettiest legs of any girl he had ever seen. Bryan had themakings of a real courtier.Before long my popularity was spreading and new suitors for myfavours were appearing almost magically. Sometimes even boys andyoung men I did not know accosted me in the streets, some humbly andsupplicatingly, and others quite impertinently.Instead of being alarmed at this situation I took it as a flatteringindication of my popularity. And, inevitably, I discovered that the softnest between my legs, upon which a filmy growth of silky hair wasbeginning to grow, could be made to hatch financial rewards as well asgenetic pleasures.That some horrible fate did not overtake me as the result of mycomplacency with utter strangers is only proof of the old, old theorythat guardian angels look after the safety of c***dren and fools,sometimes, at least.Once I made an appointment with a man to meet him at a certaincorner after dark, expecting to be taken to a room. He led me into analley of such sinister and abandoned aspects that I did indeed becomealarmed and refused to go any further. For a while he tried to persuademe with flattering words and promises of generous compensation, butthe more he talked, the more uneasy I became, and finally, cursing meviciously, he turned away and quickly disappeared.One night a young man of genteel but delicate physical featuresaccosted me in terms so respectful and courteous that I listened to hisinsinuations and consented to accompany him to his room which,though far from pretentious, was neatly and comfortably furnished.I had long since discovered that men’s first thoughts were to see menaked as quickly as possible; they seemed literally burning to gorgetheir eyes with the spectacle of my nudity, so as soon as I was in theprivacy of a room I always undressed down to my hose and slipperswithout waiting to be asked.No sooner was the door closed behind us in this instance than I startedto take off my clothes. But the young man stopped me with a gesture.”No, no!” he exclaimed, “don’t undress!”I paused uncertainly.”I’ve got to take off my clothes… my panties anyway… don’t you want tosee me naked?””No, no! Don’t take off anything! I’ll tell you what to do, don’t doanything except just what I tell you. You’ll get your money.””But… but what do you want me to do?””I’ll show you. Just sit down and wait. I’ll be back in a minute.”I sat down in the chair he indicated and he disappeared into anadjoining room, closing the door behind him. I heard him movingabout, and five minutes later he appeared again, strip, stark naked. Hewas rather thin, but his skin was white and clean. His cock, entirelyindifferent to the proximity of a feminine spectator, hung down inertand listless.Crossing the room he unlocked a cabinet and took from it a bundle ofthin, pliant switches. Selecting one of these he extended it toward meand murmured in a voice which was both low and supplicating:”Take this switch and whip me as hard as you can.”I gazed at him mute with stupefaction.”Come!” he urged, putting the switch in my hand.””You’re joking!” I managed to exclaim.”What do you want me to whip you for?””Oh, don’t waste time asking questions! Do as I ask and you’ll get yourmoney!”I saw that he was in earnest and, thinking that I had to deal with acrazy man whom it would be best to humour, dazedly got to my feetclutching the switch which he had placed in my hand.”Whip me as hard as you can!” he whispered huskily, indicating thecheeks of his bottom with a gesture.Fearfully, I drew back the slender birch and brought it forward againsthis flesh with a smart thwack.”Harder!” he said, “as hard as you can!”I repeated the blow, with greater force.”Keep on! Don’t stop! Don’t be afraid!”In obedience to this exhortation I struck him several more blows insuccession.”That’s the way… only harder!” he exclaimed.Again I drew the birch back and this time it fairly whistled throughthe air as it rained stinging cuts over his thighs and buttocks. In itswake livid crisscross lines began to appear on the white flesh. As I sawthese marks developing under my blows a curious sensation begancreeping up through my own body. A sort of fury took possession of meand instead of feeling sorry for the pain I was inflicting I felt an urge toincrease his torment. My face was hot and my heart beat violently. Iclenched my teeth and put all the strength I possessed behind theswishing birch.He stood there rigidly, his eyes glassy, distended, an ecstaticexpression on his face. And then I noticed something else. His cock,which had at first been hanging lifelessly down, was coming into aslow erection. It was expanding in size and jerking convulsively atshort intervals and with each jerk it lifted itself upward a little higher.I watched it with fascinated eyes and as it slowly assumed itsmaximum of rigidity and erection the first shiver of something akin tolewd voluptuousness kindled within me. I comprehended that in somemanner there was a relation between the whipping I was inflicting onhim and my own obscure, erotic reaction, and I tried to increase theseverity of my blows.”Enough!” he gasped suddenly, and snatching the whip from me heflung it across the room. “Now! Frig me quick!” And he seized my handand placed it upon his cock.I was now in a state in which I would have welcomed a reciprocalcaress, even masturbation, but I dared not disobey him. Supporting histesticles with one hand I pumped his cock frenziedly with the otherand before I had made a dozen passes his seminal fluid was spurtingfrom my fist in copious jets.For this service, my first experience in the realms of abnormal sexualpractices, the young man presented me with ten shillings and I wenthome marvelling, not only at his curious eccentricity, but at thepeculiar sensations I myself had experienced while occupied with theweird business.My moral status was now pretty well established in theneighbourhood in which I had lived since infancy. The echoes fromshrewish tongues to the effect that “something should be done” hadreached my ears on more than one occasion. I had not been able toconceal my occasional financial affluence from Mamma Agnes whohad taken note of mysteriously acquired bits of finery and articles ofpersonal adornment which could not be readily accounted for. Hercomments, at first veiled, became more cynical as time went on. Herwell-founded suspicions were justified when, returning one afternoonat an hour much earlier than the usual one, she opened a door whichRene and I, grown careless with respect to elementary precautions, hadleft unlocked.When we first saw her she was swaying tip-silly in the open door.Tipsy, yes, but not too tipsy to realize the significance of the picturewhich confronted her. I, my breasts still heaving under the stimulationof an orgasm just effected, lying on the bed with my panties off and therest of my clothing in guilty disarray, and Rene, his pants unbuttonedin front and his still rigid cock projecting therefrom as he reached for atowel to wipe it off in the precise moment in which the movement ofthe door attracted our attention.There was a dull minute of silence; silence frozen and absolute exceptfor the imperturbable ticking of the small china clock on the dresser.Raising her hands in front of her with the palms outward in a gesture ofrenunciation, Mamma Agnes murmured thickly:”I war-r-shh me hands of the pair of ye!”And she closed the door upon us, leaving Rene and me to stare at eachother in blank dismay.”Gee, Sis! Why didn’t you latch the door?” exclaimed Rene when thesound of her footsteps had died away.”Why didn’t you?” I countered weakly.From this time on Mamma Agnes maintained a stony indifferencetoward me, speaking only when unavoidable, and then with causticbrevity.One Saturday evening about a month later, as I was returning to thehouse after having spent the afternoon with a girl friend, a young manpassed me in the street. His glance, as it appraisingly flitted over myface and body, conveyed the message I had learned to recognize and ina brief moment of passing I was able to observe that in addition to ahandsome appearance, he was more than commonly well-dressed. Theimmaculate linen and modish cut of his clothes, together with anexpensive topcoat, suggested money, of which at that moment I hadnone, and I had seen in a store that very day a pair of high-heeledslippers of irresistible appeal.I slowed my steps and paused before a shop window. I was notmistaken in my anticipations, for he was quickly at my side,murmuring seductive blandishments in my ear.Up to a certain point my knowledge of what transpired subsequentlyis quite clear, but beyond that only incoherent and fragmentaryrecollection remains.There was a long ride in a cab which took us into a distant section ofthe city unfamiliar to me, a luxurious residence into which we werereceived by a uniformed domestic who bowed servility to each curtorder from the young man who accompanied me. I had made aconquest this time which far outshone any previous adventure. All thisstands out vividly in my memory, together with the beautiful andcostly furnishings of the rooms to which I was conducted, the rich, redwine I drank from a sparkling crystal goblet and which sent the bloodcoursing through my veins, filling me with a delicious languor as I satnaked on my companion’s knees while his hands and lips caressed mybody, lips which tugged and sucked at the little nipples of my breastscausing them to puff up excitedly and send delicious radiationsvibrating through me, soft, well-kept hands with delicate fingerswhose exquisite titillations between my yielding legs evoked otherdelicious ecstasies.Another goblet of ruby-red wine, two, maybe three, and therecollection begins to dim, with only an occasional flash reacting uponmy memory; a bed, wonderfully soft and warm and yielding, silkencovers which caressed my naked body like the touch of feathers,oblivion, and then a return to semi consciousness and an indifferentrealization of the fact that I was being fucked, another period ofdarkness and again the awareness of a warm, throbbing cock stirringinside my body.And so on, throughout what seemed interminable hours, I alternatedbetween moments of lucidity and long periods of oblivion. Whether itwas one fuck which lasted all night, or a dozen repeated at intervals Ido not know. I had never been drunk before, and it was more like someincoherent dream than a reality.When I awoke I could not at first remember the circumstances whichaccounted for my presence in such unfamiliar surroundings. I sat upamong the disordered coverings and looked about. I was alone. Myclothes were d****d over a settee where I had placed them ondisrobing the previous night. I was entirely naked and had a splittingheadache, the explanation of which was apparent in the form of emptybottles and wine-stained goblets on a small tabouret near the bed.As my glance roved about the room it encountered a clock sustainedin the uplifted arms of a porcelain shepherdess, and I saw with a startthat it was past the hour of eleven. I had never been absent from homeall night before.In this moment there was a rap at the door and hardly had I time tosnatch a sheet up over my bubbles than it opened and a servant, thesame one who had admitted us the previous evening, entered, bearinga tray with a pot of tea, some buttered toast and marmalade.”The marster’s horders, Miss, to serve you breakfast, and get a cab foryou when you’re ready.”With the sheet still clutched over my breasts I watched him as he drewup a small table which, pivoting on an iron base, swung directly overmy lap as I sat there in bed. After placing the tray on the table heindicated a silver bell.”You may ring that, Miss, after you’re dressed, when you’re ready togo.”I sipped the tea and nibbled at the toast after he had gone, immersedin uneasy meditations which the situation naturally inspired. When Ihad eaten as much as I could with an appetite impaired by a throbbingheadache, I slipped out of bed and began to dress.When I picked up my stocking I felt some lumpy article inside of it.With the thought that a garter had gotten inside I ran my hand downwithin the silken sheath but instead of a garter I retrieved a crumpledfive pound note. I smoothed it out and gazed at it incredulously. I hadnever possessed that much money at one time in my entire life. Andyet, when I picked up the second stocking there was another note ofthe same denomination in that one also.Ten pounds! A veritable fortune.I forgot both my headache and the uneasiness as to what theconsequences of my all-night absence might be. I hurried through mydressing, tarried but a moment in the beautiful bathroom, and rang thebell.The domestic appeared immediately and led me downstairs and out tothe street where a cab, already summoned, was waiting. In answer tothe driver’s query, I mentioned a corner a few blocks from where Ilived, and when we reached this destination I got out and walked therest of the way.Mamma Agnes listened to my unconvincing story of having spent thenight in the home of a girl friend in frigid silence, except for anobservation to the effect that she only hoped the girl hadn’t given me adose of clap or perhaps gotten me in a family way.I was not discreet enough to hide the harvest of this adventure and mysudden acquisition of riches, flaunted in the form of resplendent newdresses, silk hose, modish slippers, a new hat and other articles ofadornment, in the face of envious and resentful females of theneighbourhood, brought a reprisal.Upon information gratuitously submitted by a committee of righteousladies I was taken into custody as a delinquent minor, and as a result ofthe investigation which transpired, I was first subjected to a physicalexamination of a most embarrassing nature, and then committed to areformatory for wayward girls, destined to remain there until I becameof age.CHAPTER 3Three drab and dreary years I passed in this institution, submerged inan atmosphere of repression and humiliation which was fairly soulsuffocating.My complete lack of adaptability to the manual work assigned to newarrivals made me the special target of persecution by the femalewarders. My delicate physique and small hands and tiny, pointedfingers, so patently incapable of performing scullery work, laundering,and floor scrubbing with any degree of efficiency seemed to kindletheir resentment.Quick enough to show fight at first to these manifest injustices, I soonlearned that, right or wrong, I was always on the losing end and thatthe slightest indication of insubordination brought punishment of aheartbreaking nature to say nothing of the loss of certain prerogativesand so called privileges which were greatly prized in this barren placeand which were accorded only to those who accepted their fate withthe proper show of humility and servility.The first two or three months were a perfect nightmare of horror. Letme make myself clear, the sufferings were more mental than physical,for there was little or no actual physical brutality. Corporalpunishment, though authorized for incorrigibles, was rarely resorted to.I do not think there were more than half a dozen whippings inflicted ongirls during the entire period I was in the institution. These whippingsthough, when they were administered, were something not to beforgotten.In addition to the humiliation of being forced to lie face down across amassive table with her panties removed, the blows inflicted on thevictim’s naked bottom were of such severity as to cause her to shriekwith anguish. Five or six or seven times during my incarceration myface blanched at the sound of those shrill cries, intermingled with thedull slap, slap, slap of heavy leather against naked flesh.However, time reconciles us to any misfortune and we becomehardened to the inevitable.As this institution admitted only minors, many of whom were girls notover fifteen, educational facilities were provided and there were fourhours of classes daily, except Saturdays and Sundays. I discovered thatin study there was a surcease from the deadly monotony. I had neverbeen very studious; in fact, during the year proceeding mycommitment my interest in learning had waned almost to thevanishing point.Now, however, I found that time devoted to study passed very quickly.It was something like a mental narcotic which kept one’s thoughts fromuseless repining. My application impressed the teachers and matronsfavourably, and gradually they became friendly and treated me withgreater consideration. And, if it be true that every cloud has its silverlining, the silver lining in this one was that I received an educationwhich I would otherwise never have possessed.I passed the probation period and was relieved from further scullerywork. It would be carried on by new unfortunates, two or three ofwhom appeared each week.We slept in dormitories or wards, each ward a long room with fromtwenty or thirty narrow iron beds in a row. These wards were locked atnight, and a matron slept in each one, locked in with her charges. Inaddition, there was always a night superintendent on duty, who couldbe called in any emergency.At nine o’clock each night all lights excepting a dim one near the wardmatron’s bed were turned out and no conversation was permittedbetween girls after that hour. Our movements during the day, exceptin school or work hours, were fairly unrestricted within the confines ofthe building and grounds, but at seven o’clock we entered ourrespective wards and were allowed to talk, read, and attend to ourtoilet necessities. At nine we had to be in bed and cease allconversation. As it was impossible to fall asleep immediately, the hourwhich followed was probably the most disagreeable of the deadlyroutine. By ten o’clock most of us had found peace in slumber.But there was a variation to this feature to which we always lookedforward. The ward matrons were rotated weekly between dormitories.And, as is sometimes the case in correctional institutions, there areoccasional kindly hearted individuals who, instead of exercising thelast ounce of their authority to make life as miserable as possible fortheir unfortunate charges, are disposed to mitigate their wretchednesswhen possible to do so at no great cost.A certain matron who slept in our ward one week in every fivecondoned whispered conversations after nine o’clock, even though itwas against the rules. Another, also with us one week in every five, wasa very sound sleeper and snored so loudly we were never in doubt as towhen she was asleep. So, during the weeks when either of these twomatrons were on duty we were fairly safe in exchanging whisperedconversations as late as we wished. When the snoring matron was onduty we told naughty stories or exchanged venal confidences.Occupying the bed on my left side, with a space of about four feetbetween us, was a girl named Hester. She was but a few months olderthan I, but much more so in experience. She was taller than I and verypretty. Her hair, which almost reached to her knees when unbound,was that beautiful shade of auburn which just misses being black bythe narrowest margin. She had been very nice to me from the start andhad given me much kind and useful advice. She was philosophical inher attitude and possessed of an extremely likeable personality.Nearly all the girls in this reformatory owed their commitment todelinquencies of a sexual nature. Hester had been taken out of a houseof prostitution.She questioned me as to how much money I had been accustomed toget for the bestowal of my favours and when I told her, ruefully, thatthough my last and fatal adventure had brought me ten pounds, I hadrarely gotten over ten shillings, frequently far less, and sometimesnothing at all, she exclaimed:”Why, you little fool! With your form and baby face you could earnfifteen or twenty pounds a week. In the place I was last I got a poundevery time I did it beside what the madam got, and lots of times I gotmore than that! Why, you were just a little charity chippy!”One night, taking advantage of the snoring matron’s somnolence, wewhispered stories and experiences until eleven o’clock. The ward lightswere out at this hour, but the shaded lamp near the matron’s bed gavejust enough light to break the darkness. Hester suddenly kicked off thebed coverings and, stretching her legs out lasciviously, exclaimed:”Oh, Lord! For a good stiff cock!”I murmured some sympathetic rejoiner as, lying on my side facing her, Iobserved her pretty round legs dimly visible in the half darkness.”Gee, don’t you ever get that way, Jessie? Sometimes I want to fuck sodarn bad I nearly go crazy!””Who wouldn’t, locked up in this miserable place month after month?”I answered gloomily.She sighed, and after a moment of silence, whispered:”Did you ever kiss the baby in the boat, Jessie?””Did I ever what?””Kiss the baby… suck another woman.””No!””I never did, either. But there are girls here that do. I sucked a guy’scock once. I didn’t like it much, but if I had one now I could eat it alive.”She giggled faintly.”Well, I don’t know what you’re going to do. Go hungry, I guess.””I darned well know what I’m going to do. It’s better than nothing!” sheexclaimed, and arching her legs she placed a hand over her cunny andbegan to rub it vigorously.From around us came the sound of suppressed giggles, sighs, and themovements of other listeners as they stirred uneasily in their ownnarrow beds.I watched the rapid movement of her hand, dimly visible in the partialdarkness. And when, with a groan of satisfaction, the movementsceased, my own hand edged down between my legs and under discreetcover sought to quench in like form the fires her frank words andfranker actions had aroused.What she had said about girls who did certain things was true. To becaught in another girl’s bed or in any other compromisingcircumstance indicating that something of this kind was going on wasone of the things that girls could be whipped for, and two or three ofthe whippings which took place while I was there were for exactly thiscause.Nevertheless, something of this kind was going on most of the timewithout the matrons knowing about it. Sometimes the girls would takea chance in the night time while the ward matron was asleep and gettwo in a bed, but this was very dangerous because the switch whichcontrolled the lights was right near the matron’s hand, and she couldflood the room with light instantly should she hear any suspicioussound.There was a safer way. In each ward there was a linen-room whereclean sheets, pillowcases, towels, and extra blankets were kept. It was avery small room, mostly filled with shelves, but there was a little extraspace. The doors to these closets were kept locked, but the keys were inthe possession of linen-room girls, or trusties, assigned to distributetowels, sheets, pillowcases, etc., as needed in their respective wards.If satisfactory arrangements could be made with a linen-room girl, thedoor would be left unlocked, and when two lovers had slipped insideunobserved by matrons, she would lock the door, leaving them insidefor half an hour or so, and when the coast was clear, let them out andlock the door again.Some weeks before my entry in the reformatory, there had been alinen-room rendezvous of this kind in another ward and the lovers hadbeen caught. It came about through a peculiar accident. A matron,coming down the long corridor between wards, saw a girl she wished tospeak to entering a certain ward. She followed her, but when she gotinside the ward the girl she had seen was not visible, which mystifiedher, and with good reason. The girl she was following and a companionwere already locked inside the linen closet. Seeing the linen-room girlstanding nearby, the matron asked her if such and such a girl had notcome in a few moments before.”No, ma’am,” was the reply. “She isn’t in here. She must be out in theyard, or downstairs.””But I’m positive I saw her come in here not half a minute ago!””It must have been someone else, ma’am!” answered the frightened girl.”Someone else? There’s no one else in here but you! What’s going onhere, anyway?”The puzzled matron glanced around the empty dormitory. Her eyes fellon the door to the linen room. She went to it and tried it. The door waslocked.”Give me the key to this door,” she requested.”I… ah, I’ve lost it, ma’am!” stammered the poor girl.”Give me that key!”Inside the linen room two trembling lovebirds were listening to theominous conversation. Naturally, when the matron opened the doorand found not only one girl but two, she grasped the situation and boththe lovers and the linen-room girl were strapped over the table in thesuperintendent’s office and whipped on their bare bottoms.For a while after this a watch was kept on the linen rooms, but thevigilance gradually relaxed and now they were being used again withconsiderable frequency.There was Heloise, whom everyone called Frenchy, who would suckanother girl off for any trifling payment. And several others who wereknown or suspected of similar complacencies.Hester, who had become my special pal and confident, used to jokewith me in her dry, half comical, half serious way, as we sat on theedges of our beds at night before lights out.”Darn you, Jessie, you give me a hard-on every time I see youundressed. I believe I’ll sneak into your bed some night and give you agood fucking.””I don’t think you’ve got what’s needed!” I replied, snickering.”Well, I could gamahuche you, anyway. Do you think you’d like that?””Gosh, I don’t know. Two different fellows I went with did it to me thatway. I don’t know how it would be with a girl.””Must give one a funny sensation to have another girl do that to you.There are women who pay for it that way. And maybe you don’tbelieve it, but there are even some that will pay you just for lettingthem do that to you, without you doing a thing. Some people have thefunniest ideas.”I told her about the fellow who had paid me to whip him.”That’s nothing,” she replied, “there are lots of men like that. The onesyou have to be careful about are the ones that want to whip you. Someof them go crazy and whip you so hard the blood comes. They don’tcare how much they hurt you.””Why, I wouldn’t let them whip me!” I exclaimed, horrified.”Well, when you’re in a sporting house you have to do everything andpretend to like it. Those fellows who do funny things are generally thebest spenders. They’re always springing something new on you, too,”she continued, “the best paying regular I had was one of the funnykind; you’d never guess what I had to do with him.””Tell me, Hester!” I begged.She began to giggle.”Well, there really wasn’t much to it, but it was so… so… crazy, I nearlywent into hysterics the first few times, until I got used to it. He’d liedown on the bed and make me get on my knees, straddling him, rightover his face. Then I had to jack myself off with my fingers, and justwhen I started to cream, put my cunny down on his mouth. And willyou believe it, right then he’d start to squirt without my even touchinghis cock, and the stuff would fly all over my bare back.””My heavens!” I breathed.”I couldn’t sleep last night,” she continued, changing the subject. “I laidawake the longest time, just imagining things, and thinking what I’dlike to have the first night after I get out of here.””I can guess,” I said dryly, “a stiff cock.””No; five of them, all at the same time.””Five? At one time?””Yes; one in my cunny, one in my mouth, one in my bottom, and…” sheburst into laughter, “…one in each hand!””Hester, you’re the limit!” I exploded.”I get so darn tired of jacking myself off I’ve half a mind to go in thelinen-room with Frenchy. She’s crazy about that new shoulder scarf Ihave, and it’s no good to me in here, anyway.””Well, why don’t you?” I suggested. “You can tell me all about itafterwards. But be careful! I’d faint if I ever heard you getting thestrap.””Maybe I will. There isn’t any danger. They don’t watch the linenroomsmuch. Besides, I thought of a dandy way to fix things so theycouldn’t catch us. I saw Amy and that new girl she chums around withsneaking out of the linen room in ward five this afternoon. I had asuspicion that’s what Amy was up to when she started being so nice tothat little k**.””Jessie! Jessie!” I heard someone calling softly as I was sitting on abench in the exercise yard reading the next afternoon. I glanced up,and saw Hester hurrying toward me. “Frenchy and I are going in thelinen room. You come up and stand in the corridor where you canwatch the stairs! If any of the matrons come, you signal the linen-roomgirl before they get upstairs, and she’ll have time to get us out beforethey reach the dormitory!””All right!” I agreed, rising to follow her.This was a very practical plan. The ward was far enough from the top ofthe stairway to allow ample time for them to get out of the linen roomshould the girl on watch in the doorway receive a signal from me. Theonly risk they ran was that of being abruptly interrupted in their affair.I followed Hester up to the corridor and stationed myself where I couldwatch the stairs and at the same time be seen by the linen-room girl inthe doorway of the dormitory who, in the event that I suddenly startedto walk toward her, would quickly warn Heater and Frenchy.But there were no interruptions. I stood there twenty or twenty-fiveminutes, watching the stairs and picturing in my mind what was takingplace within the linen-room. The girl finally disappeared from theentrance and I knew she had gone to unlock the door.A few moments later Hester and Frenchy appeared in the corridor.There was nothing in Frenchy’s calm demeanour to indicate anythingunusual, but Hester’s face was scarlet and she was holding herhandkerchief over it. Frenchy sauntered coolly into another dormitoryand Hester went on downstairs with me and out into the yard.”Well… ?” I invited, after waiting for her to say something. “How wasit?””Oh, Jessie! It… I… she… wait till I get my breath…” and she began tolaugh hysterically. When she recovered her composure and her facehad resumed its natural hue, she said: “I can’t talk about it yet; I’ll tellyou tonight. Look: my hands are still shaking, I’m so nervous!””Oh, all right,” I answered disgustedly, “but I don’t see what you haveto be nervous about now.””It’s the reaction. Don’t be sore; I’ll tell you all about it tonight, honey!”And, that night, sitting close together on the edge of my bed beforelights out, at my insistent urging, Hester told me in whispers what therewas to tell.”Well, we got inside, and as soon as we heard the door lock we turnedon the light and took our panties off and hid them under some sheetson a shelf so in case we had to come out quick we could just leave themthere and get them later. Then we put a blanket on the floor and I laiddown on it. Frenchy wanted to do 69 but I told her I didn’t want to do itthat way because I couldn’t get my nerve up to do that to a girl. So shesaid all right, she’d just do it to me. It was the funniest thing, Jessie, alllast night and today, while I was thinking about it, I felt hot, but nosooner did I get inside that room with her than my passion all left me. Ifelt like telling her I had changed my mind and letting her keep thescarf anyway. But then I thought, what a silly thing to do after going toso much bother, and why not let her go through with it. When shepulled my dress up I started to giggle, I couldn’t help it, I felt so funny,not passionate, just silly. Well, she squeezed in between my legs, andstuck her tongue right up inside. When I felt it go in I wanted to pushher away, but I didn’t and after she put it in and out a while, she beganto lick me all around down there, and then she started to suck mybottom. I thought I’d go crazy, really. I couldn’t stop laughing. It didn’tmake me feel passionate, but the sensation started to come anyway,and sure enough, she did make me cream something fierce. If she’dhave stopped then it wouldn’t have been so bad, but she stuck to melike a little leech and it set my nerves on edge so, I felt like scratchingher. I almost had to yell at her to make her let go. She wanted to knowwhen I’d let her do it again; I told her ‘someday’ but I don’t think I everwill. It isn’t so hot. I don’t see how some girls can go batty over that kindof stuff.”CHAPTER 4The time dragged on. With the exception of such little momentarydistractions as those I have described, there was little to break themonotony. During the first year and a half I received occasional visitsfrom Mamma Agnes, and sometimes from Rene. How I would haveenjoyed an hour or two with him in privacy, but such was not to be, forvisiting was confined to the reception room and there was always amatron present to see that no contraband gifts were passed to inmates.Even the letters written to us were opened and read before beingplaced in our hands. Often, letters written to girls by male friends weredestroyed without being seen by those to whom they were addressed.Through some artful manoeuvre, a s*******n-year-old girl in our wardnamed Georgette succeeded in getting some little pictures of men andwomen doing everything imaginable. They were not drawings like theone in the little book Rene had found, but real photographs.Georgette had these pictures about two weeks when apparently someword of their presence, either accidentally or through malicioustattling, reached the ears of the superintendent.Accompanied by two matrons she entered our ward one night justafter lock-up, and proceeded to search it thoroughly. One of thematrons found the little packet of pictures under Georgette’s mattressand we knew it was the pictures they were looking for because theystopped searching as soon as they found them.They took poor little Georgette out, downstairs to the superintendent’soffice. As soon as they had gone a profound silence fell over the ward.Nobody said anything. We were all waiting with strained nerves tohear certain sounds which would cause some of us to tremble, others tomurmur curses, and others to giggle with callow indifference or maybehysterical nervousness.Moment by moment we waited but the expected sounds did notmaterialize. The minutes dragged on, ten, fifteen, twenty, a half an48hour. Maybe they were not going to whip Georgette after all. Butsuddenly the tense silence was broken by a distant but sharplyaudible thwack. It was followed by another, and another, and with thethird blow an agonized scream reached our ears. Four, five, six, seven,eight, nine, ten. Mechanically we counted the strokes as the bloodchilling cadence of strap and shrieks rent the air. With the tenth strokeit stopped, and those of us who were inspired with sentiments of pityand sympathy breathed a sigh of relief.Five minutes elapsed, and to our surprise, the woeful dirge with itshorrid slap, slap, slap accompaniment began again. From one up to tenit again ran its ominous course. This was something unusual; werecalled of no previous instance in which the punishment had beeninflicted twice in succession.At the tenth blow, as before, came silence. u*********sly I hadclenched my hands so tightly that they were numb with the pressure. Iglanced at Hester. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, her chincupped in her hands, gazing morosely downward. After the secondwhipping there was a long period of silence. Momentarily we expectedto see Georgette being brought back into the dormitory, and werefairly paralysed with horror when the dolorous refrain commencedanew. Even the face of Mrs. Barrows, our ward matron, was pale as shesat at the little desk near her bed, nervously twisting a pencil in herfingers.”If they whip me like that I’ll come back here and kill them if I neverdo another thing in life!” whispered Hester.A few minutes after the echoes of the tenth and last blow of the tripleinquisition had died away we heard the door of the superintendent’soffice open, and the sound of slow steps on the stairs and in the corridorfollowed. Finally, there was Georgette, sobbing huskily and supportedby the arms of the two matrons. Mrs. Barrows unlocked the door andhelped Georgette to her bed.49Kindly hands undressed her and laid her face down on her cot. Whenher bottom was uncovered we gasped with horror. It was a mass ofpurple welts, each welt puffed up and swollen terribly. Even Mrs.Barrows expressed surprise as she hastened to get a jar of cold creamwith which to allay the inflammation.”Why did they whip you three times, Georgette?” we whispered insympathetic wonder.”They were trying to make me tell how I got the pictures,” answeredGeorgette, her voice broken with intermittent sobs.”Did you tell them?””No!”All things must end and the time of my release was near at hand.Mamma Agnes was dead. She had passed away during the secondyear of my imprisonment, and Rene had shortly thereafter come to bidme good-bye. He was going to Canada, and would send me money tojoin him when I was free, he said. For a while my thoughts werebrightened with his hope. But his letters, coming at first withregularity and sometimes containing small sums of money, graduallybecame less frequent and were less definite in tone with regard to ouroriginal plans. They finally ceased altogether and the walls of oblivionclosed about my foster brother Rene.It was destined, seemingly, that the day of my liberation would find mehomeless, the last tie which linked me to my former life cut off, andwith no provision for the future. It was in this extremity that Hester,whose freedom was due several months in advance of mine, and whohad confided to me that a place was arranged for and awaiting her inthe atelier of a certain Madame Lafronde, suggested that I also placemyself at the disposition of this lady in whom she had the utmostconfidence.50She painted a glowing picture of the comfortable life and financialrewards to be enjoyed in the high-class establishment operated by thisMadame Lafronde. It catered to a very select clientele recruitedamong the gentility and nobility. She was certain that MadameLafronde would welcome me with open arms and so eloquent was shethat I did not long hesitate in accepting her offer to intercede for me.Before Hester passed through the big front doors to freedom it hadbeen arranged that I was to have a visitor, ostensibly an aunt, whowould call on me a few days before my own release was due. This auntwould be no other than Madame Lafronde herself, and the purpose ofher visit would be to decide whether I was an acceptable candidate forher atelier.The tight pressure of Hester’s hand, and the soft kiss she left on mycheek as she bid me farewell filled my eyes with tears. I had come toregard her with great affection, and her absence would weigh heavilyon my heart.”Don’t cry, Jessie darling,” she whispered, “we’ll soon be together again.I won’t forget you. Remember now, when Madame Lafronde comes, callher Aunt Mary, and act as though you knew her or else…”Further conversation was interrupted by a matron, and with a last hugand kiss we separated.The four months which followed were the longest and dreariest of allthe long months I spent in the reformatory. The fact that a new life wasclose at hand actually seemed to retard the passage of time ratherthan hurry it.But there were moments of happiness occasioned by the arrival oflittle packages containing candies, cakes and other gifts of a naturepermitted by the regulations. There were also letters which, despitetheir discreet wording and the mysterious signature “your lovingcousin, Frances,” conveyed to me their messages of cheer and the51certainty that Hester had indeed not forgotten me. And, true to herpromise, a week before my liberty was to be restored, I was called tothe reception room to receive a visitor.As I entered, my surprised gaze fell upon the only occupant, aside fromthe ever alert and watchful matron on duty, an elderly lady of mostrespectable, even pious aspect, gowned in sombre black silk. Socontrary was her appearance to that of the visitor I expected that Ihesitated, momentarily forgetting Hester’s parting admonition as Igazed on the grandmotherly picture. As I stood hesitantly, she arosefrom her chair, and coming toward me with outstretched arms,exclaimed:”Jessie, my darling c***d!”The sharp eyes of the matron were on me.”Hello, Aunt Mary,” I murmured as I mechanically returned herembrace.And so, under these curious circumstances, the Madame of a house ofprostitution interviewed a prospective inmate. Her eyes rovedincessantly over my body as we carried on our aimless conversation,designed to fool the matron who sat idly watching us. I felt from thefirst that I had found favour with my visitor, and her comments as tohow I had changed for the better since she “last saw” me and how nice Ilooked, and how happy she was sure I would be when she took me tolive with her now that my dear, dear mama had passed away, gave methe clue to my future and assured me that for the time being at least, itwas assured. “Cousin Francis” was eagerly awaiting my homecoming,she said, and sent me her most affectionate regards.Before leaving, she advised the superintendent that she would be atthe institution the morning of my release to see me safely home. I wentback to my ward in a regular daze, my thoughts in a confused whirl. It52was very difficult to imagine that nice old lady in the role of mistress ofa house of prostitution.The long awaited day arrived at last.At nine o’clock I was summoned to the superintendent’s office and theusual formalities related to the discharge of inmates were fulfilled.”Your aunt said that she would call for you at ten o’clock, Jessie. Youmay go to your dormitory and pack your things,” she said kindly, afterconcluding the customary harangue on the folly of a life of sin and therewards of virtue.As I spread my few effects upon the narrow cot in the dormitory,preparatory to wrapping them up in a bundle, a small group of friendsand companions gathered around, some to bid me an envious farewelland others to extract promises from me to send them this or that fromthe outside.The hour sped by and almost before I realized it I was going down thelong stairway which led to the outer offices and freedom.My benefactress was waiting in the superintendent’s office andgreeted me with a motherly embrace in keeping with our reservedrelationship. The superintendent conducted us to the outer door and asit closed behind us I paused to glance back, hardly able to believe thatmy freedom was an actual fact. As I did so, Madame Lafronde shookmy arm.”Come on, girl! This damn place gives me the willies!” she exclaimed asshe hurried me down the steps to the street. She signalled a taxi andwithin a few moments the institution which had been my home fornearly three years receded in the distance and became at last only adisagreeable memory.53Within the taxi, Madame Lafronde relaxed, and leaning back againstthe cushions she extracted a packet of cigarettes from her purse. Afterproffering me a cigarette which, unaccustomed to their use, I declined,she lit one and puffed away abstractedly.The taxi, in accordance with her indications, after travelling a dozenblocks, slowed up and came to a stop. But we had not reached ourultimate destination. A few steps away, waiting near the curb, was alarge black limousine. As we approached it on foot, a chauffeur sprangout and opened the rear compartment and to my surprise and delight,Hester stepped out and flung her arms about me. She was beautifullygowned and her face was radiant with sincere joy at seeing me. I hadalways thought Hester pretty, but I was hardly prepared for thechange a splendid wardrobe wrought in her appearance.We did not tarry long and soon, ensconced in the luxurious privacy ofthe big car, were again winding rapidly through the streets, Hesterand I babbling excitedly while Lafronde placidly blew long streamersof smoke through her nostrils, interrupting us occasionally with somequestions or observation.”Let’s see your legs, my dear.”I giggled nervously as she coolly raised my skirts and eyed my legsappraisingly.”Um-m, very good, my dear, very nice legs, indeed. I was afraid Hestermight have exaggerated a little… and how about your bubbies, let’s seewhat they’re like…” and an inquisitive and bejewelled hand passedover my chest and after a brief exploration was withdrawn. “Ah, yes;very nice legs and very nice bubbles. A fortune in them, my dear, if youare wise.”The ride ended before the portals of a large brownstone mansion in aquiet street and shortly thereafter I was ushered into my new home. Itwas a place of quiet elegance, soft plush carpets and tapestried walls. I54gazed about in wonder. There was nothing visible to the eye to markthese circumspectly luxurious premises as an atelier of prostitution,but I was soon to learn that things are not always as they seem, andthat within these sedate walls dramas of licentiousness such as I hadnever seen were of nightly occurrence.And thus did I cross the threshold bursa escort of a new life, and the doors of thepast closed behind me.55CHAPTER 5A small but furnished alcove with a tiled bath in connection waswaiting for me, and after I had examined it Madame Lafronde leftHester and me together, saying that she would have a talk with melater in the afternoon.A maid appeared with a luncheon tray and as I ate, plying Hester withquestions between bites, I learned that Madame Lafronde’s “familycomprised eight other girls in addition to Hester and myself. I wouldmeet them later; they did not get up until after twelve, whichaccounted for the silence and absence of movement I had alreadynoted.When Madame Lafronde returned, her first request was that I stripmyself entirely so that she could examine my body. I did so with someembarrassment, for though I had often enough exposed myself to boysand men, the impersonal, appraising eyes of this strange old lady filledme with a nervous dread that I might be found wanting in someessential.I was small of stature and feared that the absence of clothing mightaccentuate the possible defect. However, to my vast relief, she gaveevery evidence of satisfaction and nodded her head approvingly as Iturned around and around in obedience to her indications. When I hadreplaced my clothing she shot question after question at me, untilevery phase of my early and subsequent sexual life had been revealed.To her questions I endeavoured to give frank and truthful answers,regardless of the embarrassment which some of them evoked.”Now, my dear,” she said, when the interrogating had been concluded,”I want you to know that we’re all one big, happy family here. Theremust be no jealousy or friction or petty animosities between girls. Ourgentlemen are very nice, but men are men, and a pretty, new facealways distracts their attention from older ones. I have a plan in mindwhich fits you as though you were made for it. If you handle it rightlyyou’ll be helping the other girls as well as yourself, and instead of56being jealous of you they’ll all have reason to be grateful. We’re allhere to make money and as it must come from the gentlemen our aim isto get them to spend it and then come back and spend some more.Never forget that.”And Madame Lafronde explained the unique role I was to play, a rolewhich to a more mature mind than mine would have at once revealedthe astuteness and subtlety of the guiding genius behind this lucrativebusiness and which accounted for its success, measured in terms ofgold. Madame Lafronde was nobody’s fool.In brief, she proposed to dangle my youthful prettiness before thejaded eves of the clientele as a sort of visual aperitif, much as waterwas placed before the thirsting Tantalus, in view, but just beyondreach, the psychological effect of which would be to so whet theirpassions that they would in the end, perforce, satisfy themselves withsuch feminine fruit as was within their reach.I was to tantalize masculine passion while leaving to others the duty ofsatisfying them. This with respect to the regular “parlour clientele.Exceptions would be made privately with certain special patrons whowere always able and disposed to pay well for favouritism.Things were not as they had been before the war, explained MadameLafronde. Even this profitable business had suffered from the fallingeconomic barometer, and too many of the gentlemen who dropped inwere inclined to pass the evening sociably in the parlour. Of course,between liquors consumed, tips to the girls, and various other sources ofminor revenues, their presence was desirable, but the real profits of thebusiness were garnered in the bedrooms, not in the parlour. It was acase of a bird in a bedroom being worth five in the parlour.As a sort of stimulant designed to inspire blase gentlemen with anirresistible urge to make use of the bedroom service, I was to be riggedup in an enticingly juvenile fashion and paraded constantly beforetheir eyes in a semi-nude state. Various pretexts and artifices would57ostensibly account for my presence and movements. I would carry atray of cigars and cigarettes, serve drinks, and be available for generalservices and accommodations with but one single exception. I wouldjoke and chat with patrons, tell a naughty story now and then, evenpermit them to fondle me within certain limits, but, because of myyouth (I was to be only fifteen years old!) my services were not to beexpected in a professional capacity.I gasped at hearing that I was to play the part of a fifteen-year-old,but Madame Lafronde insisted that it would not be difficult in view ofmy small body and the fact that certain artifices in costume,hairdressing and other details would be employed to help out theillusion.The first step was to call in a barber who trimmed my hair so that ithung just below my ears. It was naturally wavy, and when the workwas finished it was quite apparent that Madame Lafronde had noterred in assuming that short curls would lend a peculiarly c***disheffect to my face. I gazed in the mirror with genuine surprise at thetransfiguration.When the barber had gone Madame Lafronde ordered me to undressagain, and after taking certain measurements left the room to returnlater with several garments and a box which on being openedrevealed a safety razor, soap and brush.”We could have let the barber do this, too,” she commented dryly,indicating the razor, “but maybe you’d rather do it yourself.””Do what?” I asked, looking at the razor in perplexity.”Shave the pretty little curls off your peek-a-boo,” she answered, witha gesture toward the dark shadow which was visible through thetexture of my single garment.”What!” I expostulated. “Why… even girls fifteen years old have… !”58″Shave it off,” she interrupted. “If you don’t know how, I’ll do it for you.””I can, I can!” I responded hastily. “I’ve shaved the hair under my armslots of times… only…” and I glanced around in confusion for, in additionto Madame Lafronde and Hester, several girls had appeared and werestanding in the door watching me curiously.”Go over by the window with your back to us and stand up, or sit down,whichever you wish, if you’re afraid someone will see your love trap.You’ll get over that before you’ve been here long.”Without further protest I took the shaving equipment, turned my backon the smiling assembly and sitting on the edge of a chair with my legsapart I lathered and soaped the hair and shaved it off the best I could. Ihad to go over the ground several times before the last prickly stubswere finally removed, and when I stood up, much embarrassed, to letMadame Lafronde view the results she expressed her approval andsuggested that I dust the denuded flesh with talcum powder.The absence of the hair from its accustomed place caused me to feelpeculiarly naked, and I turned my gaze downward. The two sides of mycunny stood out prominently like fat little hills, the crease betweenthem tightly closed as I stood with my legs pressed together.I was now to don black hose of sheerest silk and a pair of tiny slipperswith exaggerated high Spanish heels. Around my legs, just above theknees, fitted narrow scarlet garters, each adorned with a little silkrosette. Next came an exquisite brocade coat or jacket of black velvetinto which was worked fantastic designs in gold thread.”What about my bubbles?” I asked, as Madame Lafronde handed methe garment. “Will I have to cut them off, too?”A gust of laughter followed and I slipped on the loose-fitting coat. Itterminated at a point about halfway down my thighs, leaving a fewinches of naked flesh between its lower edge and the tops of my hose.59Fastening just below the breasts with three braided loops, it coveredmy stomach all right, but from there down the folds hung loose and anaked, hairless cunny would be exposed with any careless movement.The last item of this bizarre costume was a tall, military style cap ofastrakhan, fitted with a small brim of shiny black leather and a strapwhich passed under my chin. Madame Lafronde adjusted the cap onmy head at a rakish angle and stood back to view the effect.I glanced at my reflection in the wardrobe mirror. Without undueconceit I realized that I presented a chic picture, one whichundoubtedly fulfilled Madame Lafronde’s expectations, as wasattested to by the satisfied gleam in her shrewd old eyes, by Hester’senthusiastic felicitations, and by the half-admiring, half-envious looksof the other girls who were watching silently.From beneath the edge of the black astrakhan cap my hair hung loosein short, crisp curls. The low bodice of the brocade jacket teasinglyrevealed the upper halves of my breasts, while its wide and amplesleeves displayed my arms to good advantage with every movement.The jacket itself, fitting snugly around my waist, flared out sufficientlyto show my hips to good advantage. Further down, the sheen of glossysilk with the brief variation in color provided by the scarlet gartersgave just the right touch to my legs, and the high-heeled slipperscompleted the exotic ensemble.The rest of the afternoon and evening Madame Lafronde devoted tocoaching and instructing me. The doors were open to visitors at nineo’clock, but it was never until after eleven or twelve that gentlemenreturning from their clubs or other nocturnal entertainment began todrop in in any considerable number, and from then on patrons cameand went, singly or in small groups, some to linger briefly, others to passan hour or two, or to remain all night.I made my debut at eleven o’clock. With inward nervousness at first,but with growing confidence as I observed the electrical effect my60entry made upon the half-dozen gentlemen who were lounging aboutthe salon in various attitudes of interest or indifference to the wiles ofthe feminine sirens about them. As I crossed the room with my tray ofcigars and cigarettes and matches supported by a strap over myshoulders the hum of conversation ceased as if by magic and every eyewas on me.I approached a tall, well-dressed gentleman who was sitting on a sofawith a girl on either side of him, and proffered my wares in a timidvoice. His startled gaze took in the picture before him and lingered amoment on my legs. Shaking himself free from the arms of hiscompanions, he sat up.”My dear, I never smoked a cigar in my life, but I’ll take all you have, ifyou go with them!”This was Madame Lafronde’s cue. Entering the room from a side doorwhere she had been waiting, she said:”Dear gentlemen, I want to present a new member of our family to you.This is Jessie. Jessie is here under peculiar circumstances. She is anorphan and, strictly speaking, not old enough to be here in aprofessional capacity. Though as you see, she is nicely developed, she isin fact only fifteen years old and I am sheltering her here only becauseof her orphaned condition. She is to make her living selling you cigarsand cigarettes, gentlemen, and serving you in all other possible ways…except one.”Madame Lafronde paused.”In other words,” interrupted a tall, thin young man with a tinymoustache who was indifferently stroking the silk-clad legs of adamsel on his lap, “she can be only a sister to us. I knew she was toogood to be true the moment she came into this room.”61A burst of laughter followed and Madame Lafronde, smiling,answered:”A sister… well… maybe just a bit more than a sister, gentlemen, but nottoo much more!”From across the room Hester beckoned to me.”This is my friend Mr. Hayden, Jessie. He wants to know you,” she said,indicating her companion.I acknowledged the introduction.”Bring us two Scotch and sodas, will you, honey?” added Hester.Mr. Hayden spoke to me pleasantly and took a packet of cigarettesfrom my tray, courteously declining the change I tendered him. As Iturned to execute Hester’s order, the man I had first addresseddetained me.”Wait a moment, Sister. I’ve decided to take up smoking.”I might add that the nickname “Sister” was unanimously adopted andclung to me during the time I was in Madame Lafronde’s house.The gentleman took a handful of cigars and reached toward hispocket. As he did so, his eyes drifted down below the edge of the tray.”Hold on! I’m making a tactical error!” he exclaimed, replacing all thecigars but one. “I see right now that cigars should be purchased one byone. You may bring me another when you come back!”Nothing else was needed to start the ball of my popularity rolling andsoon the salon was echoing with hilarity and laughter as all called forcigars and cigarettes at once, each trying, to keep me standing in frontof him as long as possible.62If this kept up there would be substantial returns on the tobaccoconcession, for half the profits were to be mine, according to MadameLafronde’s promise, and this in addition to whatever was given to me inthe nature of tips or gratuities. Flushed and happy, I ran from one toanother, replying to jokes and quips in a half-innocent, half-cynicalmanner, calculated to fit the role of a fifteen-year-old ingénue.As the evening wore on new arrivals appeared and I was instantly thefirst object of their attention. Before long the pockets of my brocadejacket were heavy with silver, I had replenished my tobacco stockseveral times and received several generous tips for bringing in liquor,and in addition, a gentleman had given me four shillings for beingpermitted to feel my bubbles, “just in a brotherly way,” as he expressedit.What the effect of my presence was on the regular revenues of thehouse I could not judge, for though there was a constant movement ofcouples in and out of bedrooms I had no way of knowing whether thiswas a normal or an increased activity.With the advancing hours the movement gradually diminished andby four o’clock the last guest had departed. The door was locked, thegirls ate a light luncheon and prepared to retire. It was then thatMadame Lafronde informed me that the bedroom service had showeda decided increase, which increase she was fair enough to attribute tomy presence.She was well satisfied and I surely had reason to be, for when themoney was counted up and the tobacco sales checked there remainedfor me the sum of two pounds and eight shillings, which was dulycredited to me and would be at my disposition on request.I was tired out; I had hardly slept the previous night, yet such was myexcitement that I did not feel sleepy and preferred to gossip withHester for an hour in my room. I had a hundred questions to ask. I63wanted to know about the nice-looking, gentlemanly Mr. Hayden, andlearned that he was one of Hester’s regular and most favoured friends.He had been much interested in me, and Hester had unselfishlyconfided to him that I might reservedly be at his disposition on somelater occasion, to which he had gallantly responded that in such anevent he would insist on having the two of us together. How goodHester was, I thought, to be willing to share this nice man with me andmaybe risk my supplanting her in his affections. He had appealed tome greatly, and there had been several others whom I would not havebeen averse to doing something with.”You made a tremendous sensation, darling,” said Hester. “You couldhave a dozen room-calls. I heard what everybody said. But Lafronde isright. The other girls would have been ready to scratch your eyes out.There’s nothing makes them so mad as to have a new girl take theirregulars away from them. Did you notice that fellow who went withme? He comes here every three or four nights. I guess every girl herehas had him, but now he always takes me. He’s got lots of money and .he’s kind of nice, but, gee, he never has a hard-on and it takes abouthalf an hour of work to give him a stand. Sometimes I even have to putthe buzzer on him, but tonight, oh, baby, it was as stiff as a poker. Ijollied him about it and told him I bet it was thinking about youinstead of me. ‘My word,’ he said, ‘you’re a deucedly clevah mindreader. That little tart did have a most extraordinary effect on me.Wonder what the chawnces would be to secure her company for anhour or two? I think that’s all bally rot about her virginal estate, don’tyou know!’ I told him to talk to Madame Lafronde and maybe it couldbe arranged. That’s two of my regulars that have fallen for you already,but I’m not jealous. You can have Bumpy if you want him. It takes toolong to make his cock stand up.”I laughed.”What did you mean, putting the buzzer on him?”64″The juice, the electric massage machine.””Electric massage machine?””Yes, electric massage machine. Don’t you know what an electricmassage machine is?””Of course I do. They use them for facials. But how… what… ?””Facials! Oh, baby, you don’t know the half. Wait… you’re tired out… I’llfix your bath water for you and after you’re bathed I’ll give you amassage that will make you sleep like an infant.”Hester ran into the bathroom and turned on the water. Then she wentto her room and came back with an entrancing little pink silknightgown, face cream, perfume, and a large leather-covered box.While I lay splashing lazily in the tub, soaking in the pleasant warmthof the foamy, scented water, she laid out the nightgowns and openedthe box to show the apparatus it contained and which was, in effect, anelectric vibratory massage machine fitted with a long cord forattachment to an electricity outlet. There were several assorted piecesin the box and from these Hester selected one fitted with rubber lipswhich turned out in the form of a small cup.When I had gotten out of the tub and dried myself I lay down nakedon the bed. Hester dipped her fingers in the jar of cream and passedthem lightly over my face, neck, breasts and limbs.I thought suddenly of the peculiar aspect the shaving had given me ina certain place and flipped a corner of the sheet over it. Without aword Hester flipped it back and her hands were between my thighs,softly spreading the cold cream over them and down my legs.”You’re awful good to go to so much trouble for me, Hester,” Imurmured.65″It’s nothing. You can do as much for me sometime,” she replied.When she had finished anointing my body she connected the massagemachine. It began to hum and the next instant the rubber cup wasbuzzing over my forehead, cheeks and neck. My flesh thrilled to therefreshing stimulation and I lay still, enjoying it to the full. Graduallythe rubber moved down over my chest, between my breasts, then upover one of them right on the nipple. I came out of my languid rest witha bound. That bubbling, vibrating cup over the nipple of my breast wasawakening sensations quite remote to those of mere physicalrefreshment.Both my nipples stiffened up, the sensitive area around them puffedout and radiations of sexual excitation began to flow through my body.Laughing hysterically, I sat up and pushed the tantalizing deviceaway.”Be still, will you? Lie back down!” expostulated Hester, giving me ashove which tumbled me back over the pillow.”But, Hester! That thing… its positively distracting! Don’t put it on mybubbles again… I can’t stand it!”Hester smiled.”You’ll think its distracting before I finish with you. Keep quiet oryou’ll wake the girls in the next room.”Down over my stomach, in widening circles, around and around, andthen back and forth moved the diabolical apparatus guided byHester’s hand. I had a premonition now of what was coming, and as itslowly but surely crept downward until it reached the upper part ofthe rounded elevation of my cunny, I clenched my fists and held mybreath.66No sooner was it close enough to impart its infernal vibration to myclitoris than tremors of sexual agitation began to shake my body. It wassimply irresistible; I could not have forestalled its action by anyconceivable exercise of willpower.But I did not try. The fulminating intensity of the sensations which nowhad me in their grip nullified any will or desire to thwart them. I threwmy head back, closed my eyes, and surrendered supinely. My legsparted shamelessly beneath the insinuating pressure of Hester’sfingers, and the humming, buzzing cup slid between them. Up anddown it moved, three, four, maybe half a dozen times, pressing lightlyagainst the flesh.My organism, wrought up to the final pitch of excitation and unable towithstand the infernal provocation longer, yielded, and in a second Iwas gasping in the throes of sexual ecstasy.When I recovered my breath, and in part my composure, I exclaimed:”Hester! You… you… I could murder you! Fooling me with that thing!””Make you sleep good, honey, and keep you from having naughtydreams,” she answered complacently, and she disconnected the deviceand restored it to its container.”Does that work on men like that, too?””Yes; we use it on them sometimes to give them a stand when theyeither can’t get one or are too slow.””Well,” I commented, “I’ll say it gave me a stand I wasn’t expecting.”She giggled, tucked the covers around me, kissed me on the cheek, andturned out the lights.”Sleep tight, honey. I’ll wake you in the afternoon.”67She departed, leaving me alone to drowsily review the stupendoustransition which twenty-four hours had wrought in my life. Last night,a hard, narrow cot in the drab and comfortless ward of a reformatory.Tonight, the soft luxury of a beautiful bed with the seductive caress ofsilk and fine linen about my body and all around me the materialevidences of a life of ease, gaiety, and luxury. Gradually my thoughtsbecame hazy and I drifted off into a pleasant, dreamless slumber fromwhich I did not awaken until nine or ten hours later.68CHAPTER 6A week slipped by quickly, each night a pleasant repetition, withoutany notable variations, of the one I have described. This was timeenough to assure Madame Lafronde that the experiment was a success.The continued approval with which my semi-nude appearance wasreceived by patrons, together with certain other indications, was proofthat I really constituted an attraction which was imparting a newpopularity to the resort.But it was not Madame Lafronde’s intention to limit my activities toexhibitional purposes. She was already being importuned bygentlemen whose interest in me was not to be resigned to mere opticalsatisfaction and the subtle old procuress was but biding the timenecessary for these gentlemen’s inflamed fancies to get the best of theirfinancial perspectives. I was being reserved for the sensual delectationof a half-dozen or so of her most exacting and best-paying customers.To the rest, including the general run of parlour guests, I was to remainonly a visual aphrodisiac.Into the ample pockets of my brocade jacket these more or lesscredulous victims of my enticements and beguilings poured theirsilver, eagerly taking advantage of such opportunities as I permittedthem to fondle me tentatively or superficially, bought my cigars andcigarettes, tipped me generously for every trifling service, sighed, andgenerally visited a bedroom with one of my companions where,doubtless, evoking visions of my naked legs and other presumedcharms, they ravished me by proxy.Of the patrons I subsequently served in a more intimate fashion, fivedeveloped into “steadies,” that is, became exclusively mine, and camewith more or less regularity. A sixth, no other than the gentlemanly Mr.Hayden, kept his promise to Hester and either by virtue of genuineaffection for her or actuated by a kindly sentiment to avoid woundedfeelings, insisted upon having both of us with him at the same time andmaintained an attitude of strict impartiality.69I think Hester’s generous spirit would not have resented a surrender ofher priority to me, but though Mr. Hayden was one of the nicest men Iever met, I was glad that his instincts of gallantry saved me from beingplaced in the light of having distracted his attention from one who wasbeyond doubt my best and sincerest friend. I have never found anothersuch.Patrons like Mr. Hayden, unfortunately always in a minority, were thebright and redeeming features of a life otherwise vicious anddegrading. They were the ones who, regardless of a girl’s lost socialstatus, always treated her with respectful consideration. Generous inrecompensing the efforts which were made to please them, they neverexacted arduous or debasing services, nor were they addicted tounnatural vices which went beyond the pale of those sexual practicesordinarily considered acceptable and legitimate.To my lot fell the patronage of a Mr. Heeley, a gentleman of thisdesirable category though with the minor disadvantage of being mucholder and less attractive physically than Mr. Hayden. There was a Mr.Thomas, middle-aged and wealthy, who had garnered his fortune inCeylon and who always had some interesting story to tell. There wasMr. Castle and Mr. Wainwright, both of whom were addicted toeccentricities of a peculiar and disagreeable nature. At first I protestedto Madame Lafronde that these two gentlemen were personages nongrata with me and insinuated that I would not be loathe to dispensewith their attentions. It was unequivocally impressed upon me that myinclinations were quite secondary to those of wealthy patrons. “Dowhatever they want within the limits of endurance. Satisfy theirwhims, fancies, even their aberrations if possible as long as they arewilling to pay accordingly. Humour them, please them, get the moneyand keep them coming back as long as you can!” This was theunwritten law in the world of prostitution.Mr. Hayden was, I think, about thirty years old. I could easily havebecome really infatuated with this pleasant-spoken, educated, andcultured gentleman. We never knew exactly who he was with70reference to his place in the outside world, nor even indeed that hisname was really Hayden, for it was not unusual that gentlemenfrequenting such places of entertainment as that provided by MadameLafronde prudently concealed their identities under fictitious names.Nevertheless, there was no doubt that he was of the real gentility.I liked him very much and I think the affection was reciprocated to aneven greater extent than was ever manifested, but he was of thatconscientious, kind-hearted type, disposed to go out of the way even atpersonal inconvenience to avoid causing pain to others and he knewthat Hester adored him.To Mr. Hayden fell the honour, if such it might be styled, of initiatingme into the real service of which I was now a recruit. My absence fromthe salon accounted for the numerous inquiries with the old alibi “abad time of the month, don’t you know.” Hester and I and Mr. Haydenenjoyed a little dinner by ourselves and thereafter repaired to Hester’sroom, where we disported ourselves light-heartedly for an hour,romping and tumbling over the bed in good-natured abandon as thewine we had imbibed warmed our blood and attuned our receptivesenses to lecherous ideas.Mr. Hayden was a healthy, vigorous young man, a splendid example ofphysical perfection. The sight of his clean-cut, well-kept body, and themagnificently rigid and well-formed member which was disclosedwhen he undressed sent the blood surging through my veins. I did notknow by what procedure he intended to make use of two women at thesame time, but imagined that he would probably take us in turn,maybe changing from one to the other at intervals.I waited expectantly for Hester to take the initiative. Inside, I wasfairly burning up. Though I had bathed most carefully but a shortwhile before, my cunny was wet with anticipation, my clitoris swollenand pulsing. In excuse of this ardour was the fact that I had not beenwith a man for three long years and during this sterile period there hadbeen no outlet for my passions except the one provided by my own71nimble fingers, an occasional wet dream and, as I have related, theorgasm effected by Hester’s so-called massage.We lay down on the bed on either side of our male companion, Hesterand I both naked except for our slips, hose and shoes, which weintended to leave on until done with our play and ready for sleep. Mr.Hayden caressed us impartially for awhile, passing his hands over ourbreasts, fingering the nipples until they stood up stiffly, and finally ahand drifted down over each of the two cunnies. The contact of hiswarm hand as it lay over mine with one of the fingers pressed lightlywithin the cleft produced in me an effect which was almost sufficientto put my orgiastic mechanism into immediate action. I literally had to”clench” my nerves and strain my willpower to keep from coming. Hadhe let his finger linger there a bit longer, or had he imparted theslightest friction, my efforts to restrain orgasm would have failed thenand there.But he removed it after a short interval without apparently havingobserved my delicate condition, and straightening out on his back hedrew Hester across his body where, by urging her forward bit by bit, heeventually got her straddled across his chest with her knees doubledbeneath her on either side of him. Her dark auburn curls were right athis chin and it required no great imagination to divine that her cunnywas going to be licked French fashion.”If he does that to her before my eyes I’ll cream despite anything I cando to hold it back. I know I shall!” I thought to myself.In the light of experience throughout subsequent years I confess this:that the sight of another woman being Frenched by a man, or a womanFrenching a man, reacts upon me more violently than any otherspectacle of a lewd nature. My senses are excited to a frenzy at thesight of this act, and if I let myself go I can have an orgasm withouteven touching myself, but simply through the impulse conveyed to thegenital system through the trajectory of the eye.72Having accommodated Hester comfortably on his strong chest, Mr.Hayden reached over and took me by the arm, manifesting by hismotions that I was to seat myself across his middle, impaled upon theturgid emblem of masculinity, behind Hester. Obeying his wordlessindications I crouched over him, passing my arm around Hester andclasping her plump bubbies in my hand. Then, gently, breathlessly, Isank down until I felt the entire length of that glorious memberthrobbing within the living sheath I was providing for it.But, alas, to my consternation, barely had I perceived the contact of hiscrisp hair on my naked cunny than my emotions, overriding all powersof resistance, as though deriding my futile efforts to hold them inabeyance, rebelling incontinently, loosed themselves and in a second Iwas gasping, writhing and suspiring in a regular paroxysm ofpassionate ecstasy.As the reverberations gradually died away and my thoughts took on asemblance of coherency, I was filled with mortification. What wouldMr. Hayden think of such amazing lubricity and precipitation? Hester,surprised at first, had twisted around, and now burst into laughter.”What happened?” she gasped.”I don’t know!! I did it… I couldn’t help it!” I answered, shamefaced.Mr. Hayden was also laughing.”You’re a fast worker, Sister,” he said, his sides shaking, and realizingthat I was momentarily, at least, exhausted by the orgasm, he addedcompassionately: “Better get off and rest a moment while Hester and Icatch up with you!”I discharged myself and threw my still trembling body on the bedbeside them. With his hands against Hester’s knees Mr. Haydenpushed her backward to take the place I had vacated and a momentlater his cock slid in between her legs. Crouching over him, supporting73herself on her hands, Hester worked gently up and down on theglistening shaft, alternating from time to time with a twisting, rollingmovement of her hips as she sank down upon his member, completelyhiding it from view.As I watched this sensuous play the tide of my own passions began togather anew. Yielding to sudden impulse I inserted my hand betweenHester’s thigh and got my fingers around the base of the white columnwhich was transfixing her. With each of her downward lunges myhand was compressed between the two bodies, and each time it wascompressed my own clitoris throbbed in sympathy.Hester began to moan softly. A delicate color crept into her prettycheeks, and her movements became more vigorous. As I perceived themore forceful pressure of her moist cunny crushing down upon my fist,and the strong, regular pulsations in the hard flesh about which myfingers were clenched, the fires of reawakened lust again blazedwithin me. My sexual potency was back in full force.In this opportune moment Mr. Hayden murmured something to Hester.Instantly she ceded the post of honour, slipped forward, and againcrouched over his face. A second later I was on the throne she hadvacated, and with my arms embracing her from behind, was quiveringin response to the throbbing of the rigid shaft which penetrated meand filled me with its soul-stirring warmth.To the accompaniment of Hester’s low moans as a vigorous and activetongue teased her organism into expression I gasped out my ownecstasy and clung to her, half-fainting, while jet after jet of the hotbalsam of life flung itself against my womb.I was no longer a novice. I had graduated from the chippy stage ofharlotry and was a full-fledged practitioner of the oldest profession. Iwas now a professional prostitute.74Mr. Hayden came regularly, adhering faithfully to his program ofimpartiality, and his visits were interludes in which both Hester and Iforgot the sordid, commercialised circumstances under which we wereprostituting our bodies and enjoyed ourselves like healthy, robustyoung a****ls.75CHAPTER 7The next patron to whom my companionship was pledged by theastute Madame Lafronde was Mr. Heely. Mr. Heely had been until nowwhat was termed an occasional parlour visitor. He drank little and hadnever taken a girl upstairs, but he was very liberal with gratuities andit was suspected that he was more than well-to-do. He was a mansomewhat between fifty-five and sixty, very courtly and dignified, agentleman of the old school.Until my advent in the bordello he had, on the occasion of his ratherinfrequent visits, confined himself to sitting quietly in a corner, a silentonlooker as a rule, sipping an occasional peculiar combination ofliquor which was mixed in accordance with his own instructions.Sometimes he would engage a girl in conversation and after he haddeparted the subject of the conversation would be reported withconsiderable amusement. The nice old gentleman could find nothingmore interesting to discuss with a half-naked girl than politics,economics and post-war social problems!Nevertheless, the rewards which were falling to girls who were alertenough to accord him courteous hearing were sufficiently generous tohave attracted Madame Lafronde’s unerring eye, and she had himtabulated for future attention.Now I had observed a more than casual interest in Mr. Heely’s attitudetoward me in the course of my ambulation about the salon, and hadperceived the covert squeeze he always gave my hand as he pressed aliberal tip into it after selecting the single cigar he invariably tuckedaway in his pocket. Consequently, it was with no great surprise that onbeing called downstairs early one evening to the little private roomwhich Madame Lafronde reserved for confidential business, I foundMr. Heely with her and learned that I was the subject of the interview.”Dear Mr. Heely has taken a fancy to you, c***d. If it were anyone buthim, I would positively not consider the matter for a moment. But Mr.Heely is an honourable gentleman, my c***d. He knows your… ah…76untarnished condition, my dear, and he will be quite contented to… ah…enjoy your companionship without encroaching on your… ah… virginalintegrity. In fact, my dear, Mr. Heely doesn’t care for the sophisticatedtype, and it was exactly your… ah… so apparent maidenly innocencewhich intrigued his… ah… admiration. Hereafter, my dear, you will be atliberty to receive Mr. Heely any evening he wishes to call on you. Youmay let him select one night each week.”Mr. Heely bowed courteously.”But I hope my attentions will not be distasteful to Miss Jessie,” heinterposed gently. “Perhaps we should consult her first before comingto any definite understanding. I assure her, and you also, Madame, thatI will be most considerate in my demands, and will endeavour toreward each of you in a suitable manner for your kindness. Do youthink you could care for me as a good friend?” he added anxiously,turning to me.Madame Lafronde’s peculiar words had filled me with amazement. Idid not know what to make of the conversation. Mr. Heely waswatching me with an intent, almost supplicating look on his face. Iglanced uncertainly at Madame Lafronde. As I did so, the lid of her lefteye descended slowly. Her face was solemn, impassive.”Yes, Sir,” I answered, “I’m sure I could care for you. Very much indeed,Sir.”The alliance was pledged over three tiny glasses of wine and it wasagreed that the following evening I was to be at Mr. Heely’s dispositionand thereafter the same night each week.As soon as the interview was concluded I rushed upstairs to findHester. Into her attentive ear I poured the details of the mysteriouscontract. My mystification was so genuine that she nearly burst withlaughter.77″But what does he want with me, what does he expect me to do?” Ibegged.”The old fool has taken it for gospel truth that you’re only fifteen yearsold and that you’ve never had a cock in you,” she answered finally,wiping her eyes. “He’ll be a regular gold mine. I had one like that once.He preached religion to me and sucked me off between sermons. I’ll betall you’ll have to do with that man will be to let him go down on you.Those old fellows always want to do that. You’ll have to pretend it’s thefirst time, act ashamed, take on, cry about it afterwards a little and,baby, will he fill your stocking with bank notes!”How different people were in real life to what they seemed, I reflected,as the picture which Hester’s words evoked passed before my mind’seye. That dignified, cultured, respectable, elderly gentleman goingdown on me! It was too bizarre, too preposterous. It didn’t seem possible.Hester broke in on the train of thoughts which were passing throughmy head.”Really, darling, you’re lucky. Imagine having something like thatsupposed Italian count wished on you.””I heard Lafronde tell Rhoda she could chase him if he got too roughwith her.”This count, real or alleged, constituted something of a house scandal.He had the whipping mania, and though Rhoda submitted to himvoluntarily, the pain he inflicted on her caused her to shriek in a waywhich alarmed everyone within hearing.”I think she’s half in love with the crazy brute. Do you know what hedoes to her? He puts her across his knees just like a baby, and whipsher on the bare bottom with one of her slippers. He keeps her bottomblack and blue.”78″What in the world does he do it for? What possible pleasure can hepossibly get from hurting her?””Oh, what do any of them do funny things for? It gives him a hard-on, Isuppose. Imagine having a man whip you like that and then wantingto fuck you afterwards.”Madame Lafronde opened the door and came in.”You’ll have to get up early tomorrow morning and go shopping withme,” she said. “Mr. Heely has given some very specific instructionsabout your wearing apparel. Your present mode of dress is not inkeeping with his ideas as to what nice girls should wear. And…” shecontinued dryly, glancing at a pencilled list in her hand, “he hasprovided the funds necessary to renovate your wardrobe.”As a result of the shopping expedition which was duly effected thefollowing day, I found myself in possession of some new clothes which,though of the finest and most expensive material, were soincongruously at variance with the ambient in which they were to beworn that I could only look at them with amazement.There were three black silk dresses with cream-coloured lace cuffsand bodices, all of the same general type, but varying in minor detailsof style and trimming. They were very beautiful, but of a style suitablefor extremely young misses, and reached barely to my knees.Underwear there was in profusion, but instead of the slithery,diaphanous tinted silk I would have selected, it was of the finestEnglish linen and cambric; slips, petticoats, and panties with littlebands of lace around their edges, and all snow-white. There were twopair of little, round-toed, low-heeled patent leather pumps, and a longnarrow box filled with black silk hose.As we unpacked the purchases Madame Lafronde said:79″Ah, yes, I nearly forgot to tell you, my dear, that your new gentlemanhas a special abhorrence of rouge, lipstick and face powder. He prefersnature in the raw. So you may abstain from employing your usualartifices on the occasion of his visits.”I nodded my head in assent. My mind was still floundering in a maze ofcontradictory whys and wherefores.”Can you tell me, please, just what that man expects of me?””My girl, I haven’t the slightest idea. But I don’t doubt he’ll treat youkindly. Men of his age often have very curious whims and ideas. Myexperience is that it’s profitable to cater to them. Use your brains; findwhat pleases him, and act accordingly. If the screwy old fool thinks hehas found a fifteen-year-old innocent running around naked in awhorehouse don’t destroy his illusion. It will pay dividends. Butremember this: he made the proposition himself that he would respectyour alleged purity and right now he intends to live up to it. But if heruns true to form, before very long he’ll be itching to get his peckerbetween your legs. And after he’s fucked you two or three times it willbe good-bye Mr. Heely. Now I’m only speaking in the light ofexperience. There are exceptions to every rule, and he might be one ofthem. So use your brains, girl, use your brains. This is your chance toshow what you can do.”At eight o’clock I bathed preparatory to dressing for the evening. Oneof the pretty little black frocks was laid out on the bed waiting for me,together with the c***dish underwear, the silk hose and the patentleather pumps.Having a little time to spare I decided to get out a jar of depilatorycream I had bought that day with the idea of using it in preference to arazor. To my great satisfaction it removed the hair thoroughly andeasily without leaving the suggestion of a stubble which, try as I might,I had not been able to eliminate entirely with a safety razor.80The pubic mound and the sides of my cunny felt as smooth and velvetyto the touch as a baby’s skin. According to the information whichaccompanied the preparation, hair would not reappear for some timeas it was destroyed clear down to the roots. This would be a greatconvenience, as the task of shaving frequently was growing irksome.When Mr. Heely appeared promptly at the specified hour of ten, I wasall ready for him, waiting demurely in my room, dressed in a little girl’ssilk frock which barely reached my knees, my hair neatly combedback and tied with a ribbon, and my face sedately free of any artificialcolouring or embellishment. There had been much giggling andlaughter when earlier in the evening I had paraded this ensemblebefore the eyes of my companions. Even Madame Lafronde hadlaughed.In one hand Mr. Heely carried a large bouquet of beautiful hothouseflowers, in the other a square package containing a box of deliciouscandied fruit confections. I thanked him for his gifts, took his hat andcoat, and arranged the flowers on my little table.What should I say to him? What should I do? The thoughts buzzed inmy head as I toyed with the flowers to gain time to decide, and endedby doing nothing except sitting down before him to wait for him tobegin a conversation.Considering our previous speculations and Hester’s suppositions thevisit simmered down to what constituted almost ludicrous simplicityand naiveté. Mr. Heely did absolutely nothing more than sit in myroom and talk, for the most part on generalized subjects, departingfrom these orthodox themes only now and then to pass complimentsupon my appearance and conduct in his dignified, courtly way. Hemanifested pleasure at the good taste with which my wardrobe hadbeen selected, and seemed to feel that I was now dressed in a seemlyand befitting manner. He stayed for about two hours.81When he arose to go, he took my hand and pressed a kiss lightly uponthe back of it. As he lowered it a folded bank note was resting in mypalm. I did not want to look at it in his presence, so did not know untilafter he had gone the value of it. Before bidding me good-night hesaid:”May I have the pleasure of calling upon you again next Friday, mydear?””Certainly, Mr. Heely, I’ll be very happy to have you,” I replied.Not until the door had closed behind him did I straighten out thefolded piece of currency. Before my surprised sight was a five-poundnote. I could hardly believe my eyes. Surely the good old man was outof his mind.Straightway I rushed to find Madame Lafronde, laid the money beforeher and told her exactly what had transpired. She listened, smilingcynically, and pushed it back toward me.”It’s yours, girl. I’ve already gotten mine. Take it if you want to spend it.If you don’t I’ll put it away for you.””All of it?” I gasped.”Certainly. Now just use your head, girl, and there’ll be plenty morewhere that comes from. I’ll get my share, and you may keep all you getfrom him. Wait a moment…” she called, as I turned to leave afterthanking her, “here’s some more advice for you. Don’t brag about yourgood fortune to the other girls. Keep it to yourself. That old green-eyedmonster is always lurking around, waiting for a chance to maketrouble. Don’t tell others things that will make them envy you.”How deeply these words struck home could only be guessed by onefamiliar with the circumstances of my past disgrace which had comeabout under the very conditions against which she was now warning82me. Then and there I resolved to keep such good fortune as might comemy way carefully hidden from envious eyes in the future.As far as Mr. Heely was concerned, I ceased for the moment to bothermy head with trying to fathom his purposes. If he was willing to pay mefive pounds for dressing up like a doll and listening to him for a coupleof hours I had no reason for complaint. Both Hester and MadameLafronde were of the opinion that he would eventually want to dosomething besides talk, and in this they were right in a sense, but hisconduct never degenerated into anything of an obnoxious nature.Indeed, his ingeniousness was almost pathetic, and I often felt a twingeof conscience at the imposition which was being practiced upon him.But I salved it with the thought that it would be more painful to him tobe disillusioned than to be deceived. He derived a certain happinessfrom the strange association, and it doubtless filled some lonely spacein his heart.On his second visit he asked permission to sit on a cushion at my feet, arequest which was of course granted, although for the moment I wasmystified. A bit later the circumstance of the extremely short dressflashed over me and the suspicion which it engendered was verifiedwhen I observed an occasional covert glance being directed betweenmy legs.From this time on I was more careless as to how I sat, but even in this thekindly old gentleman had frustrated his own wishes by havingprovided me with panties which were so substantially made as toconstitute an effectual barrier to the eye.Slowly but progressively his familiarities advanced as the visitscontinued. The sitting on a cushion before my knees reminded me ofHester’s predictions. It brought his face conveniently close, and Iwondered… but nothing came of it. Later, he came to seating me on hislap. This provided me with an opportunity to satisfy my curiosity onanother point which I had not been able to determine.83Masculine wearing apparel of present times is deficient in oneparticular. It is prone to reveal in a rather frank manner a certainphysical condition to which men are at times subject, one which doesnot, on such occasions, escape the observant feminine eye. I had nevernoticed this condition in Mr. Heely, a circumstance which intriguedmy curiosity.Furthermore, his continued liberality was beginning to inspire me witha desire to show my gratitude in some form. It stood to reason there wassomething he wanted, some inner wish which perhaps he himself hadnot fully defined, or else was too timid and reticent to express.And so, partly to satisfy my own curiosity, and partly actuated by areally unselfish wish to give him something in return for his generosity,I decided to encourage him a little more actively, even though this wascontrary to Madame Lafronde’s counsel.It was very difficult to convince myself that he was taking this farcical”make-believe-lady” comedy seriously. How could he possibly think Iwas chaste and innocent, living as I was in a house of prostitution andassociating with harlots? It hardly seemed possible that a man of hisage and experience could be so credulous.Surely he was, like myself, just pretending, and finding in the pretencesome peculiar psychic compensation beyond my comprehension.Surely he must know in his heart that it was all sham and fraud.I had observed that his gaze was frequently on my legs. There are mento whom the feminine leg is almost a fetish. Also, I had not forgottenthe floor-sitting inclinations. The next time he came after I had mademy resolution I sat on his lap, and as he talked I worked and fumbledthrough the texture of my dress at my garter which I had purposelytightened until it compressed my leg unduly.84″Mr. Heely,” I murmured plaintively, “I wonder if you could fix mygarter for me. The buckle is so stiff I can’t loosen it and the garter isalmost cutting my leg in two.” So saying, I drew my skirt up in the mostcasual manner, exposing the garter, the top of my hose and a tiny bit offlesh above. “Look,” I continued, “it’s making a regular ring around myleg!” I pulled the garter toward my knee and turned down the upperpart of my hose. There was a purple indentation around the leg.Mr. Heely was instantly all compassion.”My dear little girl,” he exclaimed, “why didn’t you speak of it before,Why, this thing is so tight it’s cutting off the blood circulation. Wemust open the buckle and lengthen the elastic.”As he spoke, his fingers tenderly caressed the puckered flesh. Heslipped the garter down over my knee and off my leg. It took him but amoment to pry open the buckle and lengthen the band, whereupon hereplaced the garter and smoothed my hose back into place.”How about the other one? Is it tight? Perhaps we’d better fix it, too.””I wish you would,” I replied. “It hurts my fingers to open thosebuckles.”My other leg was laid bare above the knee and the second garterreceived his attention. He spent several minutes rubbing the flesh torestore the impeded circulation, adjusted the garter and put my dressdown over my knees.”You’re so kind to me, Mr. Heely, I fear I shall never be able to repayyou.””Why, Jessie, dear,” he answered, obviously pleased, “just being nearyou is quite payment enough. I have lived a very lonely life, my dear,and these are happy hours for me. I only wish they were half aspleasant for you as they are for me.”85What could I do with a man so ingenious and innocent that he refusedto rise to such bait? It was not sufficient that I sit on his lap and let himplay with my garters. Either he was the world’s prize simpleton or hedidn’t, in truth, want anything from me. I decided to make a boldereffort.”Indeed they are pleasant for me, Mr. Heely! I feel so comfortable withyou. I like to sit on your lap this way. Sometimes… sometimes, though, Iget feelings when I’m sitting on your lap that I don’t understandmyself…”I felt him start slightly.”What kind of feelings, my dear?””Oh, I don’t know… they’re hard to describe… kind of trembly, warmfeelings that go all through me. Like just now, when you were rubbingmy leg…””Are they pleasant feelings, dear?” he asked huskily.”Oh, yes! Sometimes I think they are naughty feelings, and then again Ithink they can’t be bad when they’re so nice. Do you think they arebad feelings, Mr. Heely?” I continued, watching him covertly for hisreactions.”My dear c***d,” he replied finally, taking one of my hands betweenhis and squeezing it, “I hardly know how to answer you. MadameLafronde told me, if I remember correctly, that you are fifteen yearsold. At that age the promptings of Nature are to be accepted as anentirely normal manifestation of a healthy body, I would imagine. Ihave, I must confess, often doubted the prudence of MadameLafronde’s course in bringing you into surroundings and influenceswhich I fear will tend to corrupt your thoughts. I wish…” he continuedsadly, “that it were possible for me to remove you from thisquestionable atmosphere, but if I were to suggest such a thing my86motives would undoubtedly be questioned. So all I can do, my dear, isto offer you such counsel and advice as my more mature years mayqualify me to give. I have never had any daughters of my own, andthough I was once married, my wife was taken from me while we wereboth quite young. So now, in my old age, I have no one to hold on myknee but little Jessie.””Why, you’re not old at all, Mr. Heely!”He raised my hand, which he was still holding, to his lips and kissed it. Iwas not so hardened as to be unmoved by his pathetic words, and Iunderstood now for the first time with some degree of clarity, the exactsituation.Mr. Heely’s interest in me was unselfish in that it was not actuated bythe desire to play any fantastic sexual game, but rather by thepromptings of the vague and unsatisfied longings of a man who haslived a repressed and virtuous life, and who, in the eventide of his days,realizing that something vital has been missed, gropes belatedly andblindly for that intangible sense of fulfilment which can only comethrough bodily and spiritual union with the opposite sex. Too late hehad found a compliment which could have satisfied the longings hehimself would probably have refused to recognize as merely physical,he must now warm the fibres of his being with the dying embers of afire disguised as paternal. This he could do without suffering the loss ofself-respect or at the sacrifice of dignity.If I chose to continue accepting his bounty indefinitely withoutthought of compensating him in any way other than by dressing to suithis fancy and playing maidenly innocence, I could do so. He wouldnever make any sexual advances toward me except those of themildest and most indirect nature.But I was not without conscience, nor did I lack an elemental spirit ofgratitude. The man had been both kind and generous to me, andwithout hesitating long I made up my mind to find ways to provide this87gentle soul with an occasional moment of happiness flavoured withjust that degree of lubricity which would find an echo in his being, andleave him with a few soft memories with which to dispel the lonelinessof his heart.During the week which elapsed before his next visit I gaveconsiderable thought to the subject, casting about in my mind for someformula which would fit the peculiar circumstances. Various ideaswere entertained and discarded as unsuitable. But one afternoon therechanced to cross my thoughts the recollection of Mr. Peters, thewatchmaker who had boarded with us when I was a c***d. In a vagueway, Mr. Heely reminded me of Mr. Peters. He was far more culturedand refined, but there was a certain similarity of characters whichmight have been much more pronounced had their social andeducational status been parallel.Submerged in memories of the past which the thought evoked I sawmyself again a c***d of eleven, slipping surreptitiously into Mr. Peters’room to be masturbated while I stood between his knees holding mylittle dress up. Again I saw his congested face and the tiny beads ofperspiration which testified to the vibrant emotions he must haveexperienced vicariously through manual stimulation of my body. Hadhe not actually paid me to let him masturbate me and given otherevidences of pleasure in realizing the act? And it had certainly causedme more pleasure than annoyance.And mentally I began setting the stage for Mr. Heely’s next visit.So it came to pass that after the customary exchange of banalities hadbeen effected, I set about immediately to warm the atmospherepreparatory to the course I had elected to follow with Mr. Heely.”Mr. Heely,” I began diffidently, “you never have seen all the prettythings you had Madame Lafronde buy for me. They’re so pretty theymake my heart beat faster every time I look at them, and then I thinkof you.”88His face glowed with pleasure.”I thought I’d seen all of them, my dear,” he answered, fingering thehem of my dress. “I was just thinking today that perhaps you neededsome new frocks. Madame Lafronde exercised very good taste in herselections and these black silk dresses become you wonderfully.””I don’t mean the dresses alone,” I murmured, essaying a bit of bashfulconfusion. “There were other things, beautiful things; you’ve never seenthem at all, Mr. Heely.””Ah, you mean underthings, my dear. Quite true, I didn’t see them, butif they pleased you that is all that is necessary.””I never had such beautiful things in all my life, Mr. Heely. Some ofthem have got the prettiest lace trimming, it looks just like handwork.Hester, my friend, says it’s machine-made lace, but I want to show you,Mr. Heely, and see if you don’t think it’s handmade.”Without waiting for his answer I slipped from his knees and went to myclothes chest, extracted from among the garments stored herein a pairof dainty cambric panties, around the legs of which were attachednarrow bands of expensive lace. Thrusting the intimate garment intohis hands, I continued to expiate on the quality and beauty of thematerial.”Don’t you think that’s handmade lace, Mr. Heely?””Really, I’m hardly qualified to say, my dear,” he replied, as hegingerly fingered the garment. “All I can say is that it seems to be wellmade, but whether by hand or machine I cannot say.””The ones I’ve got on are even prettier, Mr. Heely. I don’t mind if you seethem on me. I want you to see how pretty they are and how well theyfit me.”89So saying, I raised my dress until a goodly portion of lace filigree andcambric panty leg, to say nothing of quite a bit of flesh, was revealed.Slowly I pivoted around on my toes so that Mr. Heely might judge boththe dainty workmanship of the garment, and in addition such physicalallurements as might catch his eye.His face flushed slightly, and he half-averted his gaze, but his nextwords assured me that I had not missed the mark at which I had aimed.”My c***d, it is your pretty limbs which lend beauty to the garment. Ihave never seen a more charming picture.”Visibly affected, he extended his arms and drew me again upon his lap.His arm prevented my dress from falling into place, and as I made noeffort to adjust it I found myself seated across his knees with my legsexposed to the tops of my stockings and higher. I laid an arm over hisshoulder and cuddled against him.Soon I felt a hand lightly caressing my knee. It moved tenderly backand forth over the silken surface of my hose. I lay quietly with my headagainst his shoulder, my eyes half-closed. The hand moved higher andI sensed the tremor of its touch in a timid caress which dwelt a momentupon the bare flesh above the stocking. It receded downward to theknee, and after a brief hesitation again advanced until finally thepalm lay cupped over the rounded curve of bare flesh. His other handmeanwhile passed under my arm, lay quietly and unobtrusively overone of my breasts.Seated thus, with nothing but the thin material of my panties and hisown garments between the sensitive areas of our respective bodies Iwould have easily perceived anything in the nature of a muscularreaction to the erotic incitation to which Mr. Heely was now beingsubjected.That there was none confirmed my suspicion that either throughphysical weakness or possibly a purely mental inhibition he wasincapacitated sexually in the more material sense of the word. For him90naught remained but such secondary exultations as might have theirbirth in psychic stimulation, the last dispensation of benevolent oldMother Nature who, tempering the wind to the shorn lamb, concedesthat minor consolation, a measure of bliss in the mere presence ofcontemplation of pleasure through the awakening of an echo, or thetouching of a responsive chord in our sensibilities.Certain now of my ground, I advanced boldly.Snuggling closer to him, and tightening my clasp about his shoulder, Imurmured in a low voice:”Mr. Heely, you have been so good to me, there is something I must tellyou. I’m awfully ashamed to, but I think you should know, so you cantell me what to do. There is no one else I can ask, I just couldn’t speak ofit to anyone else but you…”His hand clenched about the flesh of my leg.”What is it, Jessie, dear? I can’t imagine anything you could tell mewhich should cause you to feel ashamed. As you know, I want you tofeel perfectly free to tell me anything that troubles you.””Oh, Mr. Heely, when you know what it is, you may be terriblyshocked, and not care for me anymore. I’m so ashamed to tell you I don’tknow whether I can get up the courage or not…”I dabbed at my eyes with a tearful gesture.”But, my little Jessie!” exclaimed the now quite perturbed Mr. Heely, “Iassure you from the depths of my heart that there is nothing,absolutely nothing which would lessen my regard for you. It hurts methat you can even entertain such a thought!””Oh, Mr. Heely!” And here my sobs must have been quite convincing intheir rendition. “You think I’m a nice girl, and I’m not! I have the most91terrible longings when I’m with you, sometimes I can’t sleep at all afteryou’ve gone, and other times I have dreams, oh, such dreams, they wakeme up and I lie in the dark thinking, and it gets worse until, finally,well, I just have to… have to… !”I paused, and after waiting a long moment for me to continue, Mr.Heely whispered tensely:”Have to… have to what, dear?””Oh, don’t make me say it! You must guess… without my putting it inwords… I don’t want to do it… they say it ruins a girl’s health… but I justcan’t sleep until I make that feeling go away! Now, don’t you hate me,Mr. Heely?”The tension of his hand on my leg relaxed, and the hand moved gentlyback and forth over the flesh. I peeped at him through my eyelashes;his face was flushed.”My dear little baby,” he murmured in a strained voice, “and youthought telling me this would lessen my regard for you? Don’t youremember that I told you the other night that certain emotions andimpulses in healthy young bodies were quite natural? Of course, Inever dreamed that I was unintentionally contributing to them, but Istill don’t think it is serious enough to upset yourself about, exceptinsofar as your rest and sleep is concerned. That…” he added in atroubled voice, “is something we’ll have to think about.””Then you don’t think I’m bad for having those feelings, Mr. Heely?””Nonsense, c***d! Every normal person has gone through the sameexperience in the period of adolescence. But you must exercise selfcontrol and not fall into habits which will undermine your health.””But… but… Mr. Heely, if I don’t do that, it happens anyway while I’masleep! When I wake up, it’s too late to stop it from happening!92″Oh, Mr. Heely there is something… I think… I know… would be good forme. It would sooth my nerves and take that feeling away… if only… buthow can I ask you such a thing!””How can you continue to question my willingness to do anything inmy power for you, my little Jessie?” the poor man insistedreproachfully. “If I am in any way to blame for a condition which canonly be relieved by discontinuing my visits I’ll have to make thesacrifice. Do you think it would be better for you if I didn’t come?” heasked anxiously.”Oh, no, no, Mr. Heely. That wouldn’t keep me from thinking of you; itwould only make things a hundred times worse!””What did you have in mind then, my dear?” he asked, vastly relieved.”Speak frankly; I’ll not be offended!””Oh, Mr. Heely, it’s something… it really happened in a dream once. Ifelt so much better that way than when I… you know what I mean… andthe bad feeling didn’t come back for a long time, but…” and I hid myface against his shoulder, “it’s dreadful to ask you such a thing!””Let’s consider that after we know what it is!” he urged tensely.”If you… if you… oh, Mr. Heely… it sounds so terrible… but if you would… ifyou would just put your hand there where the feeling starts… if youwould just put your hand there for a moment each night before youleave… I know the feelings would finish and go away and I wouldn’thave to do that in the night!”A tremor passed through his body, his arms gripped me convulsively,and though he spoke with forced calmness, I knew he was in exquisitetorment.”You think that would calm your nerves?” he asked in an unsteadyvoice.93″I feel sure it would… I know it would… if you wouldn’t mind doing it!””Shall we try it tonight?””Yes, yes!” I whispered.”Now?””Yes!”So realistically had I enacted my self-imposed role of ingenuousimpudicity that, u*********sly, it had quite taken hold of my ownimagination, and for the moment I was actually living the part I hadassumed.As I slipped from his lap I distinctly felt a tremor in my own knees, andthe warm glow of sexual excitation was permeating my body. I had”acted” myself into a real heat.With trembling fingers I undid my panties and without troubling toremove my dress lay down on my back upon the bed. Shielding myeyes with a forearm and in a fever of anticipation I awaited hisapproach.He rose from his chair and sat down on the edge of the bed by my side.He hesitated uncertainly for a moment and then slowly inserted hishand up under my dress. Seeing that he had not the assurance ortemerity to throw the dress back and expose my body, and havingsucceeded in working myself up to a degree in which my ownorganism was now imperatively demanding satisfaction, I reacheddown and pulled up the dress myself, revealing my cunny which justthat morning had received fresh depilatory attentions.Just as an electric current is transmitted from one metal object toanother by contact so does that mysterious force called sexualexultation communicate itself from one body to another under94favourable circumstances. I had deliberately induced an erotic tensionin this man such as he probably had not experienced in years. I hadbeen actuated by kindly rather than lewd motives for, as a matter offact, I had never felt the slightest sexual inclination toward him. Now,having succeeded by my artifices in exciting his sterile passions to anexquisite pitch, I found myself caught in my own trap.A moment or two after I pulled up my dress I felt his hand on mycunny. I separated my legs a bit wider, lay back, closed my eyes, andprepared to yield myself up to the pleasurable sacrifice. I sensed myclitoris, now excited and swollen, pulsing impatiently in anticipation. Itwanted to be rubbed and rubbed vigorously. But as I waitedexpectantly there came no motion in the hand which lay firmly, butinactively pressed against it. I waited a long minute and then movedmy hips suggestively once or twice. The hand still lay motionless overthe pubic mound with the fingers, likewise motionless, resting lightlyalong the extension of the crevice below.It was tantalizing. Didn’t this man know anything at all? I wriggled myhips again, once, twice, several times. I squeezed my thighs together,compressing his fingers between them, and still that hand remainedimpassively quiet.The tension in my nerves was now such as to render further delayunendurable. I seized his hand in mine and forcibly imparted a rubbingmotion as I pressed it harder against my clitoris. Under this friction andpressure the current of erotic sensation began to generate swiftly.Having set his hand on the proper frictional course I released it and layback again to savour the ravishing caress until the mountingsensations attained their maximum and, like a bursting rocket,exploded and hurled their melting fires through my body.Mr. Heely was all tenderness and solicitude as he hovered over me, norwas it difficult to assure him that I now felt immensely relieved andwas certain of a peaceful sleep and rest.95Needless to say, the “treatments” were incorporated regularly as apreventative of further nocturnal disquiet, and thus, by the simpleexpedient of inducing the kind-hearted man to think he wassafeguarding my health and morals by masturbating me once a week, Ifound a way to warm the blood in his aged veins and recompense himin a small way for his generosity.96CHAPTER 8I had been with Madame Lafronde about three months when thepatronage of Mr. Thomas, another well-to-do but also middle-agedgentleman was steered my way by the astute old lady.Things had run along in a pleasant manner; I had gotten along verywell with Madame Lafronde. She seemed to take a genuine interest inmy welfare, and some of the girls who had at first treated me with acertain coolness, doubtless inspired by the fear that patrons might betempted from them by my juvenile coquetteries, had been won overand were now cordial and friendly.Mr. Thomas was too much a man of the world to be at all deceived onthe matter of my alleged innocence, but beyond passing a few halfcomical, half-cynical observations, he did not dwell on the subject.Although this gentleman was fairly well along in years, he was haleand robust and had no physical deficiencies. My relations with Mr.Thomas were so entirely normal, or so purely ethical, if I may use theterm, that there is little to tell which would be of interest.Like Mr. Heely, he was a single man, but there the similarity ended. Hehad engaged my companionship for one quite specific purpose, andbetween times regaled me with piquant accounts of amorousadventures during his younger days in Ceylon. With apparently noqualms of conscience to disturb him, he told me of having fucked littlenative girls of eight, nine and ten years of age, of having two or three ofthem in bed with him at the same time, and of other salaciouscombinations.I say he regaled me with these stories “between times” because it washis regular and unvarying procedure to do it to me twice on each of hisvisits. He was entitled, by virtue of an exorbitant fee paid for mycompanionship, to pass the entire night, but he never stayed after thetermination of the second act. He arrived generally around ten o’clock,spent an hour amusing himself in the parlour, and then came upstairs,97where I was waiting for him. He was always prepared for an immediateencounter with a hard-on which belied his years, the potency of whichwas probably contributed to by aphrodisiacal sights, conversations,and liquor in the parlour.When the first episode was concluded an hour would be passed inconversation, stories and banter while I sat on his lap naked. As hetalked, his hands roved over my body, caressing my legs, thighs, andbreasts, and lingering on my hairless cunny where the tantalizingtouches kindled fevers in my organism while his own recovered itsoriginal potency. When he was ready for the second round werepaired again to the bed and I lay on my back with legs clampedaround his middle and wriggled my bottom until I coaxed his secondspend from him, whereupon he was ready to cry quits, and I was free forthe rest of the night.This man frequently disconcerted me with some outlandish story, toldso seriously that I never failed to be taken in. While in charge of aplantation he had taken a baby, left to the vicissitudes of life throughorphanage, and with no facilities other than those available in isolatedbachelor quarters, had endeavoured to care for it and attend to itsrequirements.What a kind-hearted man, I thought, much impressed with thepatience and benevolence the act implied, and passed someobservation to this effect.”She was a pretty little thing,” he concluded, puffing meditatively athis cigar.”Ah… it was a girl,” I murmured.”Yes. She had the most beautiful skin, a soft, olive tint. It was like silk tothe touch. And her bubbies, not any bigger than orange halves, but asfirm and…”98″How old was that baby?” I interrupted.”Oh, she was eleven or twelve, I guess.””It was indeed noble of you to have cared for her so tenderly, Mr.Thomas,” I answered with heavy sarcasm. “I presume dressing andundressing her, bathing her and so on must have signified quite asacrifice of time and labour for you. Possibly you even had to shareyour bed with her?””Unfortunately, there was only one bed in the place. And I couldn’t letthe poor little thing sleep on the floor, of course.””Of course not!”Next on the list came Mr. Castle. This gentleman had a complex forstrange and unusual postures in sexual intercourse, and also an itch toexperiment along lines somewhat contrary to the plans of Nature.Only the fact that he was both liberal and possessed of unfailing goodhumour made association with him supportable. Had it been possibleto offend him, my angry reactions to some of his droll impudence’swould quickly have terminated our relationship.No sooner was the door closed behind us on the occasion of his firstbedroom visit than I was startled to find myself suddenly seized frombehind and tumbled forward so that while the weight of my body fellupon my hands and wrists, my legs were caught and held under hisarms.In this undignified position, with my short skirts fluttering about myface and head, and with my bare bottom and all there was between mylegs exposed, I struggled and protested angrily, but to no avail, for withimperturbable aplomb, while still imprisoning my kicking legs underhis strong arms, he unfastened the front of his trousers and in an instantI felt his cock poking against my inverted cunny.99I tried to evade its thrusts as I sputtered angry protests, but he had mein such a position that I was quite helpless and in another moment I feltit going in, in this upside down fashion. The whole thing was finishedand over almost before I was conscious of the pain which his cock,pressing against the side of my womb in this unnatural position, causedme.He was what is termed in professional circles a “fast shooter,” one ofthose men whose orgiastic reaction is so rapid as to require but a fewthrusts. In the midst of my kicking and squealing I felt the hot gushesfollowed by the wet, sticky trickle of semen down over my stomach. Asecond later he released me and sank down on the bed, shaking withlaughter while I, after regaining my feet, stood before him, my faceflushed with indignation, protesting such cavalier treatment.”Excuse me, Sister,” he gasped finally between gusts of laughter. “I’msorry I was so rude. It’s a weakness I have… I just can’t resist temptation!””Well, why are you laughing about it, then?” I demanded, only halfappeased by the doubtful apology.”Ha, ha, ha! If you only knew how funny you looked, standing on yourhead, with your cute little cunny upside down!””Oh!” I gasped, my indignation mounting anew, but before I couldformulate a sufficiently withering retort, he continued:”There was something… something… ah, yes; how is it your cunny hasn’tany fur? I’ve seen them shaved off before, but they’re like a man’s chin,you can feel the bristles even after a close shave. Your pussy felt assmooth as silk. Let’s take a peek at it, Sister!”I was still palpitating with anger, but under such ludicrouscircumstances it could not last long and finally I smiled in spite ofmyself.100″You’re a very abrupt person,” I said. “Since you believe in cavemantactics, it’s a wonder you bother about asking me to let you see it.”No sooner were the words out of my mouth than he acted on thesuggestion. His hand closed over my wrist and I was jerked none toogently to the bed and tumbled over on my back. Again I ragedhelplessly while, shaking with irrepressible laughter, he adroitlysubjected my wrists by holding them in one hand, and with the otherpulled up my dress.Apparently unfamiliar with the properties of depilatory agents, hisvisual and tactile examination seemed to convince him that thedenuded condition was a natural one, which greatly intrigued hisinterest. While I continued to rage futilely, he felt and squeezed thenaked lips and surrounding parts, and still not content, decided to havesome more fun with me.No one except a woman who has suffered the indignity cancomprehend the conflict of emotions undergone in being jacked-offforcibly against her wishes. It is quite one thing to submit to themanipulation when it is desired, and another to be forced.As the ball of the clown’s finger rotated against my clitoris thetreacherous little organ stiffened up in response, contrary to my wishesand despite all the mental influence I could bring to bear on it. When Ibreathed curses and demands for instant release it pulsed withincreasing vigour under the friction, with the inevitable result that myresistance was suddenly stifled and my angry exclamations quiteinvoluntarily changed into surprising moans.The orgasm diminished my anger somewhat but I still felt resentfuland complained bitterly of having been treated in such an outrageousmanner.”It was just the same as a ****!” I protested.101″****? ****?” And again he burst into laughter. “That’s a new one onme, Sister! I never knew before that a girl could be ****d by a finger!””Well,” I answered, my natural good humour beginning to assert itself,”it amounts to the same thing. When you make a girl do somethingagainst her wishes, it’s ****, even if you do it with your finger!”It was impossible to stay angry with this comical buffoon, and beingfurther mollified by a gift of respectable denomination, I found myselflooking forward to his next call, if not with longing, at least withcuriosity.The next eccentricity he manifested was a desire to try aninexhaustible number of unusual and strange positions. Because of therapidity with which orgasm overtook him, the only way he could avoidejaculation and prolong these experiments was to take his cock out ofme after making a few quick movements. Naturally, this was verytantalizing, for it made me hot without satisfying me, but I had to standit as best I could.Obligingly following his instructions I stood on the floor, bent over, myhands resting on my knees, and let him do it to me from behind. I laydoubled up in a ball on the bed with my knees crooked forwardagainst my chest while he knelt in front of me, I sat spiked on his lap ina rocking chair, I lay on my back on a table with my legs over hisshoulders and went through other equally strained and arduousexercises wondering all the while why a man should want to take suchroundabout and complicated roads to reach a place which wasaccessible by shorter and easier routes. All these strenuous gymnasticsjust to make a few drops of semen come out of his testicles, a result Icould have attained for him in ten seconds if left to my own devices.But it wasn’t until a subsequent visit that I found I had moreobjectionable things still to contend with.102This time he had me on my hands and knees on the bed and waskneeling behind me. This is the position known as “dog fashion” in thesocial circles of prostitution, and inasmuch as it projects a woman’s cuntout quite prominently, she has to be careful that the man does notinjure her by too deep a penetration, especially if he has a large cock.I felt his cock pushing against me, but it was aimed too high, and wasprodding my bottom instead of my cunny. At first I thought that thiswas just an accident and putting my hand behind me I shoved itdownward and got it headed in the right direction. But after two orthree vague pushes, it slipped out and again I felt it punching againstmy bottom, this time in such a determined manner that it almost got itshead inside.Again I reached behind me to push it away, but he resisted the effort,and leaning over my back, whispered:”Don’t push it away. Let it go in for just a moment!””I will not!” I exclaimed, and jerked free from his embrace.”There, there!” he answered, soothingly, “I was just teasing you, Sis!Come on and lets finish. I have to get away early tonight.”Rather reluctantly, and on the alert for a new attack on the unguardedspot, I again braced myself on my hands and knees, but this time he letNature take her course in normal channels.From this time on the man was unable to resist the temptation to try todo it to me in the bottom on every occasion which presented itself.Determinedly I resisted blandishments, coaxings, and eventreacherous efforts to catch me unawares, but it got on my nerves andbrought choleric protestations to my lips. In justice to Mr. Castle, I mustsay that he took my angry rebuffs and blunt refusals to gratify hisunnatural whim in good spirit and unfailing pleasant humour.103It was then I intimated to Madame Lafronde that it would not hurt myfeelings were his affections tactfully transferred to some other girl, butI was ashamed to tell her the exact reason.”Why don’t you want him?” she insisted.”Well, I finally said, “he has crazy ideas. The first night I had anappointment with him he stood me on my head and did it to me upsidedown!””What!” she expostulated. “Is that the only reason you dislike him?”Abashed, I made a clean breast.”No, it isn’t! If you must know, I’ll tell you! He never gives me a moment’speace from wanting to do it to me in the bottom!”I expected that this revelation would bring a decided expression ofindignation from Madame Lafronde and that she would now bewilling to concede that Mr. Castle was indeed a most objectionableclient.But, after gazing at me a moment, she began to laugh heartily.”And is that all that is wrong with him?””Isn’t that enough?” I responded stiffly.”My word, girl,” answered the old lady, “there is no pleasant road tosuccess in anything, not even in whoring. You’re going to meet men farmore difficult to deal with than this Mr. Castle, so you must now learnhow to get what you want from them and how to evade what you don’twant by using diplomacy. They say the way to a man’s heart is throughhis stomach. I don’t know about that, I never did much cooking, but youcan take my word for it that the way to his purse is through his cock.104And his purse will stay open just as long as you keep his cock in a goodhumour and no longer!”I was not too dense or too stubborn to comprehend the wisdom of herphilosophy and I did indeed learn eventually that more could beaccomplished by cunning and diplomacy than by angry words.”Sometime,” I murmured to Mr. Castle one night as I deftly evaded asly attempt on my bottom, “sometime, I’m going to let you do that, justto see what it feels like… but not tonight!”105CHAPTER 9When Mr. Wainwright was added to my list of regulars I found need ofall the philosophy I could muster. He was a suave, dapper little man,rather handsome in an effeminate way, but very nervous andemotional. He was not, I think, over twenty-eight or thirty.There was nothing special in his appearance to suggest the possibilityof any weird abnormality, yet here is what happened: As soon as wewere alone in the seclusion of my room he went through a pantomimeof courting me in the most exaggerated manner. Words of gallantry,adoration, and vows of eternal loyalty poured from his lips as he kneltbefore me, kissing first my hands, then my feet and legs.In accordance with my usual custom when receiving new admirers forthe first time, I was fully clothed excepting one single garment whichfor convenience sake I left off, inasmuch as its absence would not benoted until the moment when its presence would be of no moment.Taken aback by this man’s strange performance, and indeed not beingsure that he wasn’t simply trying to be funny, I remained silent.Murmuring words of endearment and adoration his lips graduallyascended to my knees, whereupon he turned his face upward andbegged in supplicating words:”Oh, my Fairy Princess! Give me your permission to raise the hem ofthis robe so that your slave may cool his burning lips on the sweetfreshness of your divine limbs.”This was too much for me.”Go ahead and cool them, Sweetie!” I giggled with a democraticsociability quite out of keeping with the regal estate he had delegatedto me.Ignoring the flippancy of my answer, he turned the edge of my dressup, not high enough to reveal the absence of the interior garment106already referred to, but just high enough to expose two or three inchesof bare flesh above the tops of my hose. Upon this isolated flesh hepressed more moist kisses clasping my knee meanwhile to his breast.”Beautiful Princess!” he sighed ecstatically, and then in humble,imploring tones, “will Your Highness deign to repose upon the couchand let this faithful slave quench his thirst at the sweet spring of life?”It was too ridiculous and I laughed hysterically, but supposing that hewas now ready to “quench his thirst” in the customary manner, I let himlead me to the bed and lay down, still laughing.Disregarding my risibility he slowly and with exaggerated deference,raised my dress and folded it back. He gazed for a long moment at mydenuded cunny which was now in plain sight, and then, before Iguessed his intention, leaned down and placed his mouth on it.Whether this was just a little frisking preparatory to an orthodox fuckI had no means of knowing at the moment, but in any event it was apleasant variation, and I was agreeably surprised. I had been”Frenched” on a few occasions even before entering MadameLafronde’s bordello, and sometimes Mr. Hayden would tickle myclitoris with the tip of his tongue for a few moments when Hester and Iwere with him. I was peculiarly sensitive to the caress and sometimesfelt an inordinate longing for it, but with the exception of Mr. Hayden,none of my clients had ever taken the notion, and I, naturally, wouldnever suggest it.Consequently, when I felt this man’s mouth on my cunny, andperceived the play of his tongue over the sensitive parts, I shivereddelightedly, my clitoris stiffened up, and I relaxed my body to betterenjoy the enervating caress.It continued, actively, expertly. I felt my clitoris, now swollen anderected, clenched between his lips. A ravishing suction was beingapplied to it, and my sexual organism responded by throbbing107excitedly with a mounting fever of lascivious ebullition. Heavens, itdid feel good. If it were kept up a moment or two longer, somethingwould surely happen.I tensed my body, lifted myself up slightly on my elbows, and glanceddownward to my companion. Unobserved by me he had opened thefront of his trousers, and was frigging himself violently. I sank backwith a groan, my ovaries yielded to the intoxicating incitation, and in asecond I was suspiring in the ecstasy of orgasm.No sooner had my sexual forces expended themselves than a feeling ofrevulsion came over me. I do not know to just what extent other womenare similarly affected in this particular, but for several momentsfollowing ejaculation, the slightest touch upon my cunny causes me adisagreeable sensation. It passes quickly, but during those fewmoments I cannot stand even the softest touch or caress. As the lasttremors or orgasm died away I put my hand on his head and gently butfirmly pushed him away.Yielding to the gesture, he released my clitoris from between hisclenched lips. His face slid down a little and his lips attachedthemselves to the flesh on the inside of one of my thighs just below mycunny. This did not bother me, though I expected a discoloration wouldresult from the strong suction he applied to the flesh as he continuedmeanwhile to masturbate himself vigorously.The orgasm I had just experienced left me too languid to pay muchattention to just what he was doing, though I was watching himthrough half-closed eyes. Suddenly, through his own lively handling,the jets of semen began streaking from his cock and flew all over mylegs. And in the same moment, his teeth penetrated the flesh of mythigh where he had been sucking it.Between pain and surprise I let out a shriek and sprang from the bed ina single bound. With mixed emotions of fright and anger I looked athim, uncertain as to whether I should fly from the room or demand an108explanation of his brutality. He was lying on the bed, gasping andweltering in his own pollution, seemingly indifferent to my outragedfeelings.I raised my dress to examine the wound. It was less serious than I hadfirst imagined, being quite superficial in character. He had bitten intoa tiny fold of flesh, just deep enough to draw blood, which fact wasattested to by several ruby drops which were slowly trickling downthe inside of my thigh. When I saw that I was not wounded as badly as Ihad first supposed, anger dissipated fright, and I turned on himwrathfully.”What kind of a crazy fool are you, biting me like that?”He looked at me stupidly for a moment and then his gaze travelleddownward to where the little red drops were visible between my legs.A look of contrition passed over his face. He flung himself at my feet,and clasping my knees to his breast, begged me piteously to forgivehim. To my amazement his eyes were filled with tears.”But why did you do that to me?” I insisted reproachfully.”Sweet Princess,” he moaned, “I did it u*********sly. Strike me, beatme, kick me, do what you will with me in punishment, but do not beangry with your slave!”What could one do with such a lunatic?”Well,” I said, finally, “I’ll forgive you, but don’t ever do that again!”When he had departed I gazed wide-eyed at the material evidence ofMadame bursa escort bayan Lafronde’s sage philosophy, for without bothering to countthem, he had flung upon my dresser a little sheaf of bank notes whichtotalled an amount in excess of anything I had previously received.109After I had counted the money, I examined again the tiny laceration inthe white flesh of my thigh. It had stopped bleeding and no longerpained. Money can indeed cure many ails and ills. It was an obsessionthe man was prey to, but lured on by the irresistible magic of gold, Irisked further mistreatment and got it, and today, on the inner surfacesof my thighs just below my cunny, are several tiny white scars, eachpunctuating a moment of insanity during which the teeth of a sadistbit into my flesh while with his own hand he lashed his sexual fury intoits final torment of expression.During the later period of my incarceration in the reformatory, and forover five months of the time I was on Madame Lafronde’s staff, I had noword of my foster brother Rene. Letters sent to the last address he hadgiven me in Canada came back unclaimed. His silence worried megreatly. I did not know but what some grave misfortune had overtakenhim, but I suspected that, unable to send me any money, he wasashamed to write.While thinking about him one day I recalled that in our oldneighbourhood dwelt a boyfriend to whom Rene was greatly attached,and it occurred to me to write this boy, or young man as he now was, ifstill alive, on the chance that he might have had some news of Rene.I acted on this impulse, but the response, which came by return postwas negative. He had not received any letters from Rene since theperiod which embraced that in which I had been in communicationwith him, and he likewise commented on the fact that a letter he hadsent to the address last supplied him by Rene had come back to himunclaimed. Thus, my contentment and material success were marredby the preoccupation that something had happened to Rene, whoseimage was deeply impressed in my heart.Accustomed to sleep until around midday or later, I was surprised onemorning to be aroused from my slumbers by Madame Lafronde at theunusual hour of nine. When I was sufficiently awake to sit up in bed110and ask what was wanted, she rather grumpily informed me that therewas a visitor waiting for me in the parlour.This was an unprecedented variation of the house regime, and I staredat her in surprise.”Who is it?” I asked wonderingly.”Don’t sit there asking questions. Get up; comb your hair, put on adressing gown and go downstairs.”Plainly, Madame was not in the best of humour at having been obligedto get out of bed at this hour. There was something ominouslymysterious about this matter. In my mind I endeavoured to find anexplanation. With chilling apprehension there came across mythoughts the suspicion that it was in some way connected with thereformatory. Maybe they had discovered how I was living and hadcome to get me! My face paled and I glanced toward MadameLafronde. Her expression told me nothing.”Is there anything wrong?” I whispered.”You’ll think there’s something wrong if you ever have anyone callhere again at this hour!””But…” I protested, “I have never made any morning appointments withanyone!””Oh, it’s nothing serious. Here, slip this on,” she answered, holding mydressing gown for me. “Tidy yourself a bit and hurry up so I can getback to sleep.”Nervously, I tied my short curls with a ribbon, dabbed a little powderon my face and followed her downstairs where, after motioning towardthe parlour, she left me and retired in the direction of her own sleepingquarters.111Still wondering who in the world could have had the temerity to upsetthe house traditions by calling at this hour, I pushed aside the curtainsand entered the room.Standing with his back toward me, looking out of the window, was thefigure of a man I did not at first recognize. I approached hesitatingly,and as he heard my footsteps, he turned and faced me.For a moment I stood paralysed, unable to move or utter a word.It was Rene.The letter I had written to his friend with seemingly fruitless resultshad in the end been the instrument of our reunion, for through theaddress I had given in the letter Rene had been able to locate mewithout loss of time or difficulty.He had come directly to the house, and Madame, on being informedthat I was his sister, had consented to call me without delay.In a flash we were in each other’s arms, both talking at once. For anhour I sat on his lap, listening to the story of his adventures andmisadventures. Shamefacedly, he confessed that, as I had divined, along period of hardship, during which he had suffered manyvicissitudes and disappointments, had been the cause of his silence.”But, darling!” I interposed reproachfully, “I could have helped you soeasily. I have lots of money saved, if I had only known how to reach youI could have sent you some!”Our conversation was interrupted by the maid, who had come in toclean the parlour.”Come on up to my room, darling, we can talk there, and I’ll have thegirl send us up some coffee and cakes!”112With his arm about my waist we ascended the carpeted and paddedstairs. Within my room I hastily gathered up such pieces of clothing aswere lying carelessly about and straightened out my disordered bedwhile Rene gazed about in evident wonderment.”Gee, this is a regular palace you’re in, Sis,” he mused. “Just what kindof a place is it? That old dame wasn’t going to let me see you until I toldher you were my sister.””Oh, Rene, don’t you know what kind of a place it is?” I asked, insurprise.”Well… I’ve got an idea. If s a kind of sporting house, isn’t it?””Yes, it is, Rene.””Gee, Sis, I’m sorry. I’ll find some kind of work and get you out of it.””But I don’t want to get out! I’m getting along fine; its easy, and I don’tmind it at all! Really, I don’t! Madame Lafronde is awfully good to me,Rene, and you’ll be surprised when you see how much money I’ve got!””It’s supposed to be a tough life for a girl, but gee, Sis, you lookabsolutely topping. Word of honour,” he added, standing in front of meand holding my arms, “you don’t look a day older than you did when Iwent away. In fact…” he continued, eyeing me in a puzzled way, “youactually look younger!”I laughed contentedly as he continued to look at me, perplexed.”It’s your hair, for one thing. Why did you cut it short? It’s cute thatway, but it makes you look like a k**!””That’s what it’s supposed to do,” I replied, giggling. “Some of our mostvalued patrons are freaks that can’t get a hard-on unless they thinkthey’re fucking an infant. Look…” I added, raising the short crepe-de-113chine slip I had on under my dressing gown so that he could see myhairless cunny, “more of my disguise!””Gosh!” exclaimed Rene, breathing harder, “it gives me a funny feelingto see it like that, Sis! Reminds me of when it really was that way. Buthow did you get the hair off so smooth?” he continued, touching megingerly with his fingers.”It’s some paste I put on it. It makes the hair come out clear down to theroots. Do you like it that way?” I asked, eyeing him mischievously.”You used to think one wasn’t much good until it had hair on it.””Gee, Sis, it looks good enough to eat! And your legs, why, Sis, youalways did have pretty legs, but honest, they’re perfect now; you’re thebest-looking girl I ever saw!”What feminine heart wouldn’t have thrilled at such sincere tribute asthis?”Oh, Rene, you old darling!” I murmured, half crying, half laughing as Iput my arms around him and squeezed up to him. “I missed you somuch! I never have had a fellow half as good as you! I’ve just lainawake nights remembering all the things we used to do! Sometimeswhen fellows were doing it to me I closed my eyes and made believe itwas you, but nobody could ever make me feel the same as you did!”Against my stomach as I clung to him I could feel the warm pressure ofsomething hard and rigid which was pulsing with enough vigour tomake its movements perceptible through our respective clothing. Islipped my hand down inside the waistband of his trousers and soughtout the disturbing element. A shiver passed through me as my fingersclosed around the turgid object and a vertigo of longing whichdemanded immediate satisfaction, overwhelmed me.”Oh, Rene, darling, it feels so good to have this in my hand again! I’llbet it’s been up inside lots of girls since I had it last, though. Are those114Canadian girls very pretty, Rene?” I asked, the eternal feminine risingto the surface as in my imagination I pictured Rene with other girls.”Some of them aren’t so bad, but I never saw one that could hold acandle to you, Sis!” Rene replied uncomfortably.”Come on, Rene!” I panted, “let’s do it quick! Nobody is up yet, but assoon as the girls are awake, I’ll have to introduce you to them!”I flung myself on the bed, and in a jiffy the object for which I waspalpitating with burning ardour was buried in my trembling flesh.With my arms entwined about Rene’s neck I fluttered and moaned andreceived his thrusts in a regular frenzy of emotion. In it went, until Icould feel his crisp hair pressed against my naked parts, and as if thispenetration were not enough I hurled myself up against it and pressedwith all my might so that it might reach the innermost depths of mybeing. Moaning, gasping, suspiring, and murmuring hystericalendearments, I clung to him, my arms clasped about his neck and mylegs clenched over his strong back while my flanks quivered andstrained to draw from his as quickly as possible the satisfying balm mybody craved.Hardly had I recovered from my first orgasm when there was a discreetknock at the door. While Rene hastily buttoned up his clothing I tookfrom the maid a tray with coffee and toast. My hands were stilltrembling from the recent exhilaration, and my face was flushed andhot.We lingered over our coffee for another hour, talking, laughing,reminding each other of little incidents which stood out prominentlyin our memories of the past.”Do you remember when that little Marshall girl’s mother caught youtrying to do it with her in the coal shed?”115″I’ll say I remember it! She gave me such a lacing with an old belt that Icouldn’t walk straight for a week. Do you remember how Mr. Petersused to send me out on fake errands so he could have you alone in thehouse and diddle you with his fingers?”And so, immersed in reminiscences of the past, some laughable, somepathetic, some tragic, the time flew by, and the sound of movement andconversation elsewhere in the house reminded me that it was highnoon.”I’m going to call Hester to introduce you to her. She’s the girl that waswith me in that darned old reformatory. She’s my best friend; if it hadn’tbeen for her, I don’t know what would have happened to me.”I jumped up and went directly to Hester’s room. Finding her awake andlanguidly engaged in combing her luxuriant hair I danced up to her.”Oh, Hester, I’ve got the grandest surprise for you! Powder your noseand come quick to my room. There’s somebody there waiting to seeyou! It’s my brother Rene, come back from Canada! He came at nineo’clock this morning and Lafronde woke me up! I bet you’ll fall in lovewith him when you see him; he’s the handsomest fellow you ever saw!”My excitement was contagious, and Hester rushed to make herselfpresentable. As soon as she was ready I led her to my room where Renewas waiting.”This is Hester, my very dearest friend, Rene. Next to you, I love hermore than anyone in the world!””Gee, I don’t blame you for loving her, Sis!” exclaimed Rene, as hejumped to his feet and admiringly appraised Hester’s dark beauty. “Icould love her myself without half trying!””Well,” I said, judiciously, “she’s the only girl in the world that wouldbe good enough for you, and you’re the only fellow in the world that116would be good enough for her, so that leads to only one logicalconclusion.”Hester stayed with us until, despite my protestations to the contrary,she felt that we might wish to be alone, and with a promise to see Reneagain before he left, she slipped out, closing the door behind her.Rene wished to leave around one-thirty, and anxious to be as close tohim as possible during the remainder of his visit, I again sat on his lap.Before long, new temptation began to assail me. Tentatively, I feltaround inside his clothing with my hand until I found what I wassearching for. It stiffened out magically under my fingers. For a fewminutes I squeezed it, thrilling to the quick transformation and thesignificant throbbing which my touch had evoked.”Once more… before you go?” I whispered, squeezing it tightly.”Just what I was thinking myself!” he answered huskily.”You lie underneath and let me get on top, like we used to do in theattic!” I suggested.”Suits me, absolutely.”And this is how it happened that Hester, returning to bid Rene goodbye as she had promised, on opening the door was confronted by a mostpoetic sight.I, for greater freedom of movement, had thrown off the dressing gownand, crouched over Rene with my bottom in the air, was workingfrantically up and down on the pivotal point which projected from hismiddle.”T-a-ah!” she gasped, “… I didn’t think… excuse me… !” and she closed thedoor and fled precipitately.117″I forgot to lock the door!” I murmured, guiltily.”Not the first time, Sis!” he retorted.”Well, it doesn’t make any difference here,” I answered, resuming myefforts to attain the objective which had been uppermost in my mindup to the moment of interruption.After Nature had taken her pleasant and satisfying course and theinward fires which consumed me had again been temporarily lulledwith a copious shower of masculine sperm, Rene departed.Hester had not returned, and so as soon as I had bidden him good-byeat the door, I returned to her room upstairs.”Jessie!” she exclaimed, “you could have knocked me down with afeather!””Oh, that was nothing,” I answered lightly, thinking she had referenceto opening the door without knocking. “It didn’t startle your modesty,did it?””But… but… your own brother!” she whispered, in low, shocked tones.For a moment I failed to grasp the import of her words. Whencomprehension dawned on me, I burst into laughter.”Didn’t you know, ha! ha! ha! Didn’t I tell you, Rene isn’t my realbrother, he isn’t any blood relation to me at all, he’s only a stepbrother!”A look of relief passed over Hester’s face.”Jesse, no! You never told me that before! You used to talk about him inthe reformatory, but you never said he wasn’t your real brother. Gosh! Inever was so surprised in all my life as when I opened that door andsaw you on top of him, naked! I could hardly believe my eyes!”118″We were just renewing an old love affair that started when he waseight and I was six!” I answered, laughing. “What did you think ofhim?””Well,” she replied, smiling, “let’s go downstairs right now and tellLafronde that we’ve just discovered we’re lost sisters, so the next timehe comes, he can be a brother to both of us!”119CHAPTER 10The days slipped into weeks, the weeks imperceptibly, into months,and almost before I realized it, a year had gone by. Barring the fewdisagreeable incidents of a minor nature such as those I havedescribed, the time had been passed on the whole both pleasantly andprofitably.Miraculously, I had escaped all three of the afflictions whosemenacing shadows are ever close at the heels of those who traffic withtheir sexual favours: syphilis, gonorrhoea and pregnancy, the ThreeHorsemen of the Prostitute’s Apocalypse.My health was good, and I had gained in weight, having added severalpounds of flesh which improved my figure even though at the cost ofsome of the juvenile slimness which in the beginning had been such avaluable asset. Nevertheless, I had for some time been observing agradual change in my physical orgasm which was becoming more andmore pronounced, and the condition was one which is not common inthe walk of life I frequented.I will speak plainly. Sexual sensibility, which is that capacity torespond easily and actively to erotic excitation, diminish rapidly in themajority of professional prostitutes who are obliged to exercise theirsexual functions with a frequency far in excess of the provisions ofNature. The sexual act becomes a mere routine in which pleasure ororgasm is only simulated to satisfy the customer’s ego.They moan and sigh and murmur passionate endearments, but if theirminds could be read, the hollow mockery would be apparent, for onethought only occupies them: a wish to be finished and rid of the man asquickly as possible.This is the rule which should have applied to me, but didn’t.Desires which should have been appeased by all too frequentgratification were quieted but for a moment, and almost at once120flamed anew with increased insistence. And the tendency wasgrowing. Strange as it may seem, sometimes after having had orgasmeffected as many as half a dozen times in a single afternoon andevening, I was obliged to masturbate before being able to sleep.Pathologically and physically, I was oversexed, designed, seemingly,by Mother Nature herself to be a whore.Now in this propitious moment there entered into the horizon of mylife, for the first time, a really sinister influence. And though in thatinfluence I myself sensed a spirit of perversity I was drawn toward itlike a moth to the candle. Knowing that the destiny it signified wasevil, I had no wish to resist it.Montague Austin-what memories that name evokes. Memories ofpassion, cruelty, horror, blended with the cloying and intoxicatingpoison of a transcendental lust which knew no law other than that ofgratifying its own frenzy.I was supposed to have been infatuated with the man, but I never lovedhim, nor thought I did. No, I did not love him, but I did love the madtransports, the exquisite torment of lust which he, as no other manbefore or since, had the power to awaken in me. As an addict to thescented dreams of opium, so did I become an addict to MontagueAustin. He was to me a fatal d**g which held me a willing victim in itsembrace.For the first time, in broaching the subject of a new patron to me,Madame Lafronde manifested a doubt as to the expediency of puttingmy youth and inexperience to the test which she clearly thought analliance with Montague Austin would signify.I had seen the man but once; he was not a regular habituate ofMadame Lafronde’s house, but her facilities for gathering informationwere such that within less than twenty-four hours his social position,resources, and such portions of his history as were available on suchinquiry were known to her. All the information, excepting that which121related to his economic situation, was unfavourable. She summed upher opinion in the one expressive word-rotter. But he had money, andmoney covers an otherwise inexcusable number of objectionablequalities. Possibly by the exercise of tact and vigilance I could handlehim.As for myself, I was the last person in the world to doubt my owncapabilities, so Madame Lafronde finally and with patent misgivings,yielded to my complacent and optimistic self-assurance.Now let us glance briefly at the man himself.He was, at the time our paths crossed, thirty-four years of age. Theyounger son of a titled British aristocrat, he had inherited both moneyand social position. The social position had been forfeited by dissoluteescapades, the money dissipated in part, but enough remained toqualify him still as a rich man. He was married, but according torumour his profligate ways had brought about an irreconcilableestrangement with his consort.At first glance one would have marked Montague Austin as anextremely good-looking man. But a less cursory observation would nothave failed to disclose signs of a cynical and somewhat cruel characterin his darkly handsome face and narrow mouth. A little above averageheight and signally favoured with regard to other physicalcharacteristics, he was in truth a figure to intrigue feminineimagination.In my brocade jacket, high-heeled slippers, and with my grenadier’scap tilted at a jaunty angle I was going through my customary anticsone night when I suddenly felt myself clasped from behind, andturning, looked into the cynically smiling face of a man I had notpreviously seen among our parlour guests. I paused, waiting for him torelease me, but instead, he swung me around, dropped an arm undermy hips, and hoisted me, cigarette tray and all, into the air.122″There is a tide in the affairs of men,” he quoted, “which, taken at theflood, leads on to fortune. Baby, you’re my tidal wave, the one I’ve beenwaiting for all my life!”He got off this declaration with such well-simulated solemnity andimpressiveness that all within hearing laughed, nor could I myselfrestrain a smile.”I think you’re the tidal wave,” I retorted, “since I find myself quiteswept off my feet. If you’ll be so kind as to set me down, maybe I’ll letyou buy a packet of fags from me!””Lord love me!” he exclaimed tragically, “she peddles fags while Romeis burning! I perish for a kiss, and she offers nicotine!””Oh, all right!” I giggled, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Now bea nice man and let me down!”He set me down on the floor, but still held me a prisoner with an armunder mine.Yielding to his solicitation I unhooked the cigarette tray, placed it on atable, accompanied him to a secluded corner of the room, and let himtake me upon his knee.Dropping his bantering attitude he immediately became serious andasked for a room appointment. A shiver passed over me as his fingersboldly played with the nipples of my breasts. I glanced into his eyesbut hastily lowered my gaze as something of the lustful obsessionwhich was later to dominate me came into being. Sensing theabsurdity of telling this man any fairy stories, I explained frankly that Iwas not permitted to make any appointments except through theintervention of Madame Lafronde.123″Ah, I see,” he answered, taking in the situation instantly, “you’re aspecial attraction. So much the better, I’ll see her immediately, and Isuppose there’s no use of taking up any of your time until I do.””Any of the other girls can make, room appointments.” I preferred.”Thanks for the information,” he answered dryly, “but you’ve wreckedtheir chances. I couldn’t even get a hard-on with any of them now.””I’ve got a friend here,” I murmured, looking around for Hester. “That’sher over there by the door, the girl with the dark hair. She can give anyman a hard-on. Shall I introduce you to her?””No thanks,” he answered with but a brief glance in the direction I hadindicated. “It’s you or nobody now. When can I talk to your madam?””I’ll tell her you want to speak to her, but I’m afraid it won’t do anygood.””Possibly she can be persuaded. What’s your name, baby?””Jessie.” I replied.”That’s a nice name. Mine is Austin, Montague Austin, Monty to you.Skip along and tell the old lady I want to speak to her privately.”The result of his interview with Madame Lafronde I have alreadymade known. Inasmuch as I had now become quite a parlourattraction, having in addition to my earlier accomplishments learned anumber of naughty songs and suggestive dances, she was loathe toconcede any of the earlier hours of the night, but an understandingwas reached where Montague Austin, or Monty as I shall henceforthrefer to him, was to enjoy exclusive prerogatives over my person onenight each week after the hour of twelve.124A feeling of lascivious exhilaration was welling within me as Igroomed myself for our first rendezvous. I had lately noticed that thecraving for more frequently repeated orgasm was growing on me. Itseemed that no matter how often I had it, the longing was nevercompletely satisfied. Even the two or three patrons I had who weresexually potent now left me with the irritated feelings of a womanwhose passions have been inflamed and then abandoned in asmouldering state.The effeminate Wainwright, who still came regularly, caused mealmost frantic torture with his licking, and sucking, and despite thepreoccupation and the watchfulness I was obliged to observe to keephim from biting my legs, he left me in such a state that I nearly alwaysmasturbated as soon as he had gone.It was a little after eleven-thirty. I had slipped out of the parlour,abandoning for the night my role of cigarette girl, and was making mytoilette, preparatory to Mr. Austin’s promised call.”How nice it would be,” I thought, as I fluffed violet talc over my body,”if this Austin would suck me French style and then fuck me aboutthree times afterwards.” My nerves tingled at the luscious vision thusevoked and a warm feeling crept through my body. The little scarlettips of my bubbies swelled up and in the upper part of my cunny Icould feel something else getting hard, too.A few moments after twelve there was a discreet knock at my door andthe maid appeared, inquiring whether I was ready to receive Mr.Austin. At this moment I was standing before the mirror consideringthe dress I had tentatively chosen for the occasion, having yielded toan impulse to use one of the short black silk frocks which DaddyHeeley had bought me. Just why it had occurred to me to put on thisjuvenile costume on the present occasion I could not say; some vagueintuition probably, but as it turned out, a fortunate one as far as theeffect on my new patron was concerned, though until the arrival of the125maid I was still debating, undecided whether to wear it or change tosomething else more in keeping with the circumstances.”All right, Maggie,” I answered, “you may bring him up.”I tied my short curls back in a cluster with a band of ribbon, sprayedthem lightly with my favorite perfume, and was just adding a finaltouch of powder to my face when footsteps at the door announced thepresence of my caller.The door opened to admit him, closed again, and the steps of the maidreceded down the hallway.Mr. Austin paused in evident surprise as he took in the scene whichconfronted him, then his face lit up approvingly.”Are you the same girl I was talking to downstairs last night?””You mean that bold little hussy who runs around with a cigarettetray, showing her legs to everyone?” I answered jocularly. “No, I’m hertwin sister. She’s off tonight, and asked me to entertain you in herplace.””Well!” I’m quite pleased with the substitution. You’re much moreattractive than your twin sister!””I’m glad you’re not disappointed, Mr. Austin!””Not Mr. Austin; just Monty from now on, if you please!””Very well, Mr. Austin… I mean… Monty!” I agreed demurely.After a brief exchange of pleasantries Mr. Austin proved again, as hehad done previously, that he was a man who went promptly andwithout any unnecessary circumlocutions after whatever he wanted.With just the same directness as that employed to overcome Madame126Lafronde’s reluctance, he proceeded to take immediate advantage, ofthe opportunity which was now his.Abruptly he gathered me up in his arms and carried me to the bed.Seating himself on the edge he bent over me and his hand began torummage under my clothing. With just the proper simulation ofembarrassment I offered to undress.”Not yet,” he answered, “you’re too pretty a picture just as you are.” Buta moment later his questing hand encountered panties which, if notexactly finger-proof, were at least something of an obstacle to easyexploration. He fumbled with them for a moment, then flipped mydress up and on his own initiative set about to unfasten and remove thepanties.I laughed nervously as he pulled them down over my legs. Already Iwas on fire. My sensibilities were reacting to the brutally frank sexualinfluence which the man exerted, and covertly I glanced toward hislap. The cloth down the inside of one of his trouser legs was distendedover an elongated swelling. It looked enormous. As though drawn bysome inner force I placed my hand upon it. It throbbed to my touch andI squeezed it through the clothing which concealed it.Whether the thoughts that occupied my mind while I had beenpreparing for his visit were due to a premonition or mere coincidence Icannot say, but the wish I had expressed in thought was converted intoa reality.My dress was up, my cambric panties had been pulled down over mylegs and cast aside.Monty, on the side of the bed, leaning over my knees and supportinghis weight on a hand which rested on the bed between my open legshad caught his first glimpse of my naked cunny. His eyes glistened anda faint flush crept over his cheeks. With one sudden movement his facewas between my thighs and his mouth nuzzling my cunny. A warm, soft127tongue penetrated it, tapping, touching, caressing, and then movedupward. The hot glow of the caress thrilled my senses and I relaxed inlanguorous abandon to the delicious ravishment.His lips clenched my clitoris; it pulsed in response to the tuggingincitation so vigorously that I was obliged to draw away to avoidorgasm then and there. I was torn between two impulses; I wanted to letit “come” and at the same time I wanted the delightful ecstasy to last aslong as possible.The problem was not resolved by me, however, but by Monty, whoraised up, ripped his trousers open and sprang upon the bed betweenmy trembling legs.Hard, rigid and hot I could feel it in there, distending my flesh to thelimit of endurance, inspiring me with a wild desire to work on itrapidly, violently, until it poured out the balm which the fever withinme craved. For an interval he remained poised above me, motionless,looking down into my face. His body did not move but within me Icould feel the muscular contractions of the turgid thing whichpenetrated me. They followed each other with regular precision andeach time I perceived that tantalizing twitch my ovaries threatened torelease their own flood of pleasure tears.”Oh!” I moaned finally, and unable to resist the urge, moved my hips inpleading incitation. “You’ve got me in such a state! Please dosomething!””All right! Come on!”And in a second that rigid shaft was plunging in and out in a maddance of lust.”Oh! Oh! Oh!” I gasped, and as though incited by my fervour, theturgid arm drove home in shorter, harder strokes.128Higher and higher mounted the swirling tides, lifting me upon theircrest, no longer resisting, but an eager, willing sacrifice, panting toyield up the store of passion with which I was surcharged.I perceived the approach of the crisis, that delicious prelude in whichone trembles on the brink of ecstasy, in which the senses seem tohesitate for one sweet moment before the breathless plunge.And in that critical moment the throbbing weapon which was workingsuch havoc within my body suddenly ceased its movement and washeld in rigid inactivity.Above me I saw a face which smiled sardonically down into mine andvaguely I comprehended that he had stopped his movements with thedeliberate intention of forestalling my orgasm in the last moment. Buthe had stopped too late, the tide had risen too high to recede and withbut a momentary hesitation, it swept onward and carried me, gasping,writhing and swooning in its embrace.When the, languid spell which always overcomes me after a hardorgasm had passed, I found him still crouched above me and his cock,as stiff and rigid as it had been at first, still inside me.”Why did you stop just as I was coming?” I complained weakly. “Younearly made it go back on me!””That’s what I was trying to do,” he replied cynically, “but you put itover anyway. You know the old saying, baby, you can’t eat your cakeand have it, too. I like to enjoy the cake awhile before eating it.””That’s all very well,” I rejoined, “but when there’s plenty more cake inthe pantry, there’s no use being stingy with it.””So!” he said, smiling, “there’s plenty more in the pantry, is there? I’mglad to hear it. But tell me this, does the second piece ever taste asgood as the first?”129″And how!” I exclaimed fervently. “The second piece tastes better thanthe first, and the third better than the second. The more I eat, the betterI like it!”He burst into laughter.”You sound like you really mean it. I’d imagine that after a few monthsin a place like this you’d be so fed up on cake it would almost chokeyou. You’re a cute youngster. You’re wasting your talents here. What’sthe story? Innocence and inexperience taken advantage of by somebounder, I suppose?” he added quizzically.”I’m here for two reasons,” I answered calmly. “The first one is to earnmoney and the second one is because I like to do what I have to do toearn it.””Well, bless my soul!” he gasped. “What refreshing frankness! And youreally weren’t seduced by a villain?””Seduced, nothing! I was the, one that did the seducing.””Good for you! You’re a girl after my own heart! You and I are going toget along famously, Tessie!””Not Tessie… Jessie!””Ah, yes; Jessie, Pardon me. Well, since you really like cake, how aboutanother piece?””I’m ready whenever you are!””What do you say we get undressed, and really make a night of it? Ididn’t expect to stay all night, but I’ve changed my mind.””That suits me, Mr. Austin. I’m yours… till tomorrow do us part!”130″Not Mr. Austin… Monty, if you please.””All right… Monty!” I repeated, giggling.Whereupon we untangled our respective anatomies, scrambled off thebed, and proceeded to disrobe.That is, Monty stripped, but when I had gotten down to my hose andslippers he suggested that I retain these last articles of apparel for themoment. Odd, I thought, how so many men who get pleasure from thesight of a girl’s otherwise naked body were so alike in preferring thatshe keep on the hose and slippers, and I murmured something to thiseffect to my new playmate.”Very easily explained, my dear little girl,” he replied. “Completenudity may be as suggestive of cold chastity as obscenity, whereas,nudity supplemented by a pretty pair of silk-clad legs and neatslippers is the perfectly balanced picture of aesthetic lewdness.””But suppose one’s legs and feet are pretty enough to look goodwithout stockings? Everybody says I have pretty legs!””It’s not a question of beauty, but of eroticism. I’ll make a clearerillustration. Suppose we take two girls, each equally pretty. One ofthem stands before us entirely naked. The other is dressed, but sheraises her dress and holds it up so we can see her pussy. Which of thetwo is the most exciting sexually?””The one holding up her dress,” I answered without hesitation.”Right. And that’s the answer to your question. You look naughtierwith your hose and slippers than you would completely nude.”My attention was now distracted from the matter of my own nudity tothat of my companion. His body was well formed and in admirableathletic trim. Smooth, round muscles rippled under the clear white131skin, a pleasing contrast indeed to some of my other paunchy, flabbypatrons. But most impressive of all was the rigid weapon which, duringthe conversation and undressing, continued to maintain its virileintegrity, standing out straight and proud from his middle. I glanced atit admiringly.”How did you ever get that big thing into me without hurting me?” Icommented, as I considered its formidable proportions.”It carries its own anaesthetic, baby.””It looks strong enough to hold me up without bending.””Baby, it’s invincible. I could put you on it and whirl you around like apinwheel.””I’ll take the starch out of it and make it melt down fast enough.””That’s a big order. You may lose a lot of starch yourself trying.””Ha!” I scoffed, “I wager it will be curled up fast asleep in an hour’stime.”A prediction which, as things transpired, turned out to be about onehundred percent wrong.I returned to the bed and Monty, following me, placed himself on hisknees between my outstretched legs. Gripping the cheeks of mybottom in his strong hands as he sank down upon me, he pushed homethe lethal shaft.Our previous encounter had hardly more than whetted my appetite,so, as soon as I felt his cock well inside, I raised my legs, hooked themover his back, and without loss of time began to work against him.Apparently satisfied with my initiative, he remained still and let meproceed unhindered.132Grinding my loins against him I could feel his pubic hair compressedagainst my cunny. Moving my bottom from side to side, then shiftinginto undulating, circular movements, I sought to capture a secondinstalment of the cloying sweetness with which Mother Naturerewards the efforts of those who labour diligently in her garden.The first warning of the approaching crisis was manifested by themuscular quivering of my thighs, and Monty, still squeezing the cheeksof my bottom, commenced to raise and lower himself upon me withslow, deliberate thrusts. Now the length of the hot thing was entirelyburied within me, distending my flesh to the utmost; I could feel itpressing my womb. Now, it was coming out, slowly, slowly, out untilnaught but the very tip lay cuddled against the quivering lips of mycunny.A pause, a teasing agony of expectation, and it was going in again, in,in, until the crisp hair at the base was again pressed against my clitoris.Orgasm was creeping upon me, I could feel it coming, and in a frenzy ofimpatience, I launched my hips upward to meet the thrusts, but,instead of continuing its trajectory, it remained poised midway in itscourse. My orgasm was trembling in the balance. In desperation Ibrought it to its fulfilment with a supreme effort and fell back, halffainting.”What is that, Mister, a system?” I panted when I could speak. “Youplayed that same trick on me the other time!”An hour later the suspicion was beginning to dawn on me that, in therealms of erotic prowess, I had met my master. Two hours later, I knew itfor a certainty. I had experienced nearly a dozen orgasms while mypartner’s cock was still stiff and rigid as it had been at the start. Oneach occasion he had succeeded in making me have an ejaculationwithout himself rendering any accounting to Nature. It lacked but afew minutes to three.133″You look a bit fagged, baby,” he said smiling quizzically. “Think youcan stand one more piece of cake?””Yes!” I replied valiantly, although in truth I was beginning to feel likea squeezed-out sponge. For once in my life I had about had my fill.This time he rolled me over on my side and with his stomach againstmy back and his legs pressed against mine, he put it into me frombehind, spoon fashion.I thought to turn the tables on him and, by lying perfectly still, obligehim to work himself into a spending heat. But it was unnecessary. Hewas done playing with me and went right to work on his own accord.Before long the pressure of his arms tightened about me and I tensedby body against the harder plunges as a hot flood was loosed inside mewith such force that I could distinguish each separate gush as it flungitself against my womb.I held rigid for a moment in my determination not to let myself go, butthe feel of that hot stuff spurting inside me worked havoc with myintentions and about the time the fourth or fifth jet hit me, the brakeslipped and I was off again!The aftermath of this last orgasm was a feeling of extreme lassitudeand I was entirely agreeable when my companion, having apparentlyno further immediate designs upon my person, suggested that we turnout the light and sleep. I dragged myself from the bed, attended to thecustomary hygienic requirements, divested myself of my slippers andhose, put on a silk shift, slipped back into bed beside him, and inprobably less than ten minutes was deep in sleep.134CHAPTER 11I slept profoundly, dreamlessly, but not for long.Something was pressing against my face, brushing my lips, with anirritating persistence which defied my mechanical, sleep-d**ggedefforts to shake away. I endeavoured to turn my face on the pillowaway from it, and the knowledge that it was imprisoned so I could notturn it gradually crystallized in my mind.As one coming out of a bad dream tries to dispel the lingering shadows,so did I try to free myself of something which seemed to be oppressingme, weighting me down, hindering my movements. I could not do it,and awoke to complete consciousness with a frightened start.In the dim light which filtered through the curtains from the streetillumination was revealed the fact that my erstwhile sleepingcompanion was now straddled over me, a knee on either side of mybody. His hands were under my head, which he had raised slightly,and against my lips, punching, prodding, trying to effect an entrance,was that invincible cock.I struggled to raise my arms to push him away, and at the same timetried to twist my head sidewise. I could do neither. My arms werepinioned down by his knees, and his hands prevented me from movingmy head. At my movements their pressure tightened, a sinisterreminder of my helplessness.Of course I realized what he was doing. He was trying to fuck me in themouth, something I had never permitted any man to do.In prostitution, just as in other circles of life, there are socialdistinctions. The cocksucker is at the low end of the scale and is lookeddown upon with considerable scorn by those of her sisters who have notyet descended to this level. If among the entertainers in a high-classbordello one is discovered to be guilty of accommodating patrons withher mouth she not only loses caste but stands convicted of “unfair”135practice which makes it difficult for other girls to compete with herwithout also resorting to the same procedure.This does not, of course, apply to those places known as French houseswhere cocksucking is the accepted practice, or to other places of a lowand degenerate character wherein nothing is too debasing to befrowned upon.These, together with the fact that I was both sleepy and exhaustedsexually, were the considerations which inspired my efforts to escapethe inverted caress which now threatened me rather than those of astrictly moral nature. The man appealed to me greatly in a physicalway; I had reacted to his sexual advances with more passion andenjoyment than I had done before with any other patron. Had heendeavoured earlier in the night to seduce me, with a little gallantryand coaxing, into sucking his cock, I might, under the influence of myexalted passions, have yielded. But I have always been quick to resentanything smacking of impudence or effrontery and, as I havementioned, I wanted at that moment but to be permitted to sleepundisturbed.”I won’t do that!” I hissed angrily, as I struggled to free myself from hisembraces.”Oh yes you will, baby!” was the confident and surprising rejoinder.His legs pressed tighter against my sides, constricting my arms so that Icould not move them. He lifted my head higher. The end of his cock,with the foreskin drawn back, was right against my mouth.”You… you…” I gasped, inarticulate with rage, as I was forced to clenchmy teeth to keep out the invader.”Open your mouth, baby!” he ordered coolly, and gave my head ashake to emphasize, his words.136When I comprehended that my wishes were to be ignored and that myefforts to dislodge him were useless, full rage took possession of me. Fora moment I was on the point of screaming, but sudden recollection ofthe penalty exacted of girls who permitted scandals or disturbances toarise in their rooms at night stifled the cry in its inception.We were expected, and presumed to be qualified, to meet unusualsituations and resolve them with tact and discretion. Nocturnaldisorders were unpardonable calamities and justified by nothing shortof attempted murder.”Open your mouth, baby!” he repeated, and shook my head again, thistime with more force.”All right!” I hissed, “you asked for it!”I opened my mouth. His cock pushed in immediately, and as it did so Isank my teeth into it. The intent was vicious enough, but the tough,resilient flesh resisted any actual laceration. Nevertheless, the paininflicted by my small, sharp teeth must have been considerable.He jerked it out of my mouth and simultaneously, withdrawing one ofhis hands from under my head, he dealt me a stinging blow on the sideof the face with his open palm.”Open your mouth, baby!” he repeated, undaunted, “and if you bite meagain I’ll knock you u*********s!”The tears started to my eyes.”Damn you… !” I choked. “I’ll… I’ll…”The hands subjecting my head were again holding it in a vicelike grip.His thumbs were pressing into my cheeks, against the corners of mymouth, forcing it open.137There was nothing to do but yield or scream such an alarm as Wouldarouse the entire household.I chose the more discreet course and, though almost suffocated withrage, opened my mouth in surrender to the assault which was beinglaunched upon it. The big, plum-shaped head slipped in, filling thecavity with its throbbing bulk.For a moment I tried to keep my tongue away from it, but there was nospace in which to hide. His cock was so big I had to open my jaws totheir widest, and my lips were stretched in a round, tight ring.Further resistance was futile and anymore biting would bring a swiftretaliation. So, still boiling inwardly, I relaxed, and let him go ahead.A faintly pungent taste filled my mouth; the head of his cock, fromwhich I could not keep my tongue, was wet and slippery. Every fewseconds it jerked convulsively, forcing my jaws further apart. Prettysoon he began to move it, a short in and out movement. The foreskinclosed over it as it receded, leaving only the tip inside my mouth,allowing me to relax my distended jaws momentarily. As it went in, theforeskin slipped back and the naked head filled my mouth again,forcing my jaws apart.This went on for several minutes, and all the time he held my head withhis hands. His cock seemed to be getting wetter but whether from itsown dew or the saliva of my mouth I did not know. I wanted to spit, buthe would not release me and I was obliged to swallow the excessmoisture.Finally, with the head just inside my lips, he paused, and after holdingit still for a few moments, shook my face and whispered:”Come on, baby! What’s the matter with you? Are you going to suck it,or do I have to get rough again?”138I knew nothing of the exact technique of this business, though of coursethe very title by which the art was known indicated that sucking wasin order. Choking, gulping, I tried to suck as it advanced into mymouth. Taking cognisance of my awkward efforts he paused again, andas though for the first time taking into account the possibility that Iwas in truth a rank novice, queried:”What’s the matter with you? Haven’t you really done this before?”Mutely, I managed to convey a negative by shaking my head.”Lord love me!” he ejaculated, and then in slightly apologetic tones, “Ishouldn’t have been so rough. I thought you were just stalling, my dear!However, it’s something every young girl should know, and I’m glad tohave the opportunity to be your teacher. Now listen: don’t try tostrangle yourself! You can’t suck while the whole thing is inside!Wait…”He withdrew it until just the head was encircled by my lips.”Now suck while it’s like that, and run your tongue over it!””Well,” I thought in disgusted resignation, “the sooner finished thebetter,” and submissively I followed his indications. Vigorously, if notenthusiastically, I sucked the big round knob and rolled my tongueover its slippery surface.”That’s the way, baby!” he whispered tensely after a few moments.”That’s great! Now… hold everything!”And while I remained passive, he worked in and out in short, quickthrusts. Thus, alternating from one to the other, sucking one moment,submitting to having it rammed down my throat the next, my firstlesson in cocksucking continued.139I was still filled with resentment, but the first fury of anger had spentitself, and my thoughts were now concentrated on bringing the ordealto a conclusion as quickly as possible. To this end I now tried to makethe caress as exciting and fulminating as I could. I sucked thethrobbing glans, curled my tongue around it, licking, sucking coaxing…and the effect upon my companion was soon apparent. He groanedwith ecstasy and from time to time jerked away from me so that thesensitive glans receded within the shelter of its elastic covering offlesh.Perceiving that this manoeuvre was designed to delay an orgasm, Iredoubled my efforts and when he again tried to withdraw I followedhim by raising my head and with my lips firmly compressed aroundthe neck of the palpitating knob, I sucked and licked without pausing.The muscles of his thighs and legs, pressing against my sides, werequivering. Suddenly he withdrew his right hand from under my, headand twisting sidewise reached behind him, groping with his fingers formy cunny. This was insult added to injury in my estimation and I triedto clench my legs against the invading hand. The effort was useless; heforced it between my legs and with the tips of his fore and indexfingers he found my clitoris and began to titillate it.Now began a new conflict. With every atom of mental influence Icould bring to bear I tried to force that little nerve to ignore theincitation, to remain impassive to the friction which was being appliedto it, to stay inert and lifeless.I may as well have tried to stay the tides of the sea in their course. Thetraitorous, disloyal little thing cared not a whit for my humiliation andrefused to heed the mental commands I was hurling at it. Despite thefact that it should have been as sleepy as I had been, it came almostinstantly awake, hardened, and stood up stiffly.He rubbed it in a peculiarly maddening way, a soft, twirlingmovement with the erected button lightly compressed between the140tips of his two fingers. The little thrills began to generate, andcommunicated themselves to the surrounding area, up into my ovaries,down, seemingly into the very marrow of the bones in my thighs andlegs.Why say more? There was only one possible ending.When the ultimate capacity of resistance was reached and passed, andin the very moment in which my organism was yielding to thediabolical incitation, my tormentor, waiting apparently for this precisemoment, loosed within my mouth a flood of hot sperm. I choked,gurgling and gasping, as part of it gushed down my throat and the rest,escaping my lips, ran in hot, sticky rivulets down the sides of mycheeks, over my chin…No sooner had the torrent subsided than he flung himself from me andlay panting on the bed by my side.With the viscid stuff still dripping from my lips and its peculiar starchyflavour filling my mouth, I sprang from the bed and fled precipitatelyto the bathroom. First with water, then with tooth powder and brushand finally with repeated rinsing I endeavoured to purify my mouth.When this was accomplished I went back into the room, turned on alight, and flung myself into a chair where, for a few moments I satsilently glaring at my tormentor who, with drowzy indifference,contemplated me through half-closed eyes.”Well,” I said frigidly, breaking the silence. “Aren’t you going tocongratulate me on my graduation into the cocksucking class?”He smiled dryly.”Regular little powder magazine, aren’t you, baby? Come on, k**, don’tbe a spoilsport. I’ll admit I was a little rough, but that was a keen nipyou gave me. I’ll make things right with you. I like you, baby, you’ve141shown me the best time I’ve had in a long while, and I’m not pullingyour leg, either.””A nice time you showed me,” I observed bitterly, “trying to fuck me inthe mouth while I was asleep and nearly choking me to death. Youknow girls here aren’t supposed to do that! Why don’t you go to aFrench house?”This plaint seemed to afford him considerable amusement. He sat up inbed, laughing.”Don’t rate me so low socially, baby! I’m a sort of high-class chap withecstatic inclinations!””I see; a special honour conferred on me. Quite a distinction, I mustsay.””Ha, ha, ha! Forgive me, baby. Word of honour, I’ll behave quiteproperly in the future. Anyway, it wasn’t so terrible, was it? Listen, I’lltell you a funny story. There was a young French girl just married andher mother was giving her some confidential advice. ‘Daughter,’ shesaid, ‘the ultimate object of marriage is to have babies. Without thelittle dears no home is complete. However, the bearing and rearing ofc***dren is a confining task which imposes arduous and continuousobligations. It is my advice to you, daughter, that you do not have anybabies during the first two or three years. You will then, in after life,not be deprived of the memories of a few years of happiness andfreedom from care to which youth is justly entitled.’ ‘Ah, mother dear,’answered the blushing maiden, ‘you need preoccupy yourself nofurther on that score. I shall never have any babies!’ ‘Never?’ gasped themother, ‘why do you say that you will never have any babies, darling?”Oh, mother,’ answered the girl, hiding her blushing face in thematernal bosom, ‘I shall never have any babies because I simply can’tforce myself to swallow the horrid stuff! I always have to spit it out!’ “142”And, so what?” I asked caustically, refusing to unbend at theridiculous story.”Don’t you see, ha, ha, ha, don’t you get the point? She didn’t even knowthere was any other way of doing it. She thought she had to swallowthe stuff to get a baby!”Despite my efforts to remain haughty, my better humour wasreturning. I have always been like that, quick to anger, quick to forget.There was something about this man which was irresistible. Even hisimpudence had a saving grace, an ingenuous, disarming quality. Onlythe memory of the slap he had given me remained to irritate me. He satthere in bed, smiling, a sheet d****d carelessly about him, halfconcealing,half-revealing the smooth white muscles of his torso. Hishair in its ruffled disorder gave him a boyish aspect, throwing a wellformedwhite forehead into relief against the background of bluishblack curls.After all, what harm had really been done? And, I suddenly recalled,had he not earlier in the night given me a most delightful ten minutesby putting his tongue in my cunny? The service he had required of mewas no less intimate. I shivered involuntarily at the recollection of theshort but delicious episode. The last remnants of my resentment fadedaway. I began to feel slightly ashamed of myself for having made sucha commotion.”Still peeved at me, baby?” he inquired quizzically.”No,” I answered, my lips twitching into a smile, “only it was kind of…well, startling to be waked up that way from a sound sleep. I supposeyou don’t believe me, but I never did that before.””Of course I believe you, baby,” he interrupted, “it was easy to see youhadn’t any experience. Honestly, I don’t know what came over me. Yougave me such a stand tonight it came right back on me after I’d beenasleep a short time. I woke up, and lay there looking at your prettylittle mouth in the dim light, and he first thing I knew I got into a fierceargument with myself about it.”143″What on earth do you mean, an argument with yourself about mymouth?””Well, it was like this. At first I said to myself, it’s too small, and then Isaid, no, it might be a tight fit, but it could be done. And the argumentwent on, until finally it got so hot it had to be decided definitely oneway or the other, and so… and so…””And so I got fucked in the mouth to settle, it. Very well, YourHighness, shall we retire now, or is there any other way I can serveyou?””Well, if it’s not putting too much of a strain on your hospitality, I’dgreatly appreciate a shot of brandy!”I rang for the maid. After a long wait, she shuffled to the door halfasleep,took the order, and was back again in five minutes with theliquor. When this was consumed, we turned out the light and againcomposed ourselves for sleep.The tumultuous events of the night, abetted perhaps by the brandy ofwhich I also partook, were reflected throughout the remaining hours ina regular phantasmagoria of distorted dreams. In all these dreams Iwas sucking somebody’s cock. Strangely enough, in them I felt noinhibitions, no reluctance. On the contrary, I seemed to be doingsomething quite natural, and which caused me the most delightfulerotic reactions.At first it was Rene as I had last seen him, but with an incongruousdiscrepancy in time which took us back to our old attic playroom days.”I’m going to do something nice to you,” I whispered, and placingmyself on my knees before him I unbuttoned his trousers and releasinghis erected cock, took it in my mouth. “No, no, Sis!” he protested, but hemade no effort to escape the seductive caress. The thrill of vicariousdelight was trembling through me when I suddenly observed thatHester was standing nearby, looking at me reproachfully. I paused for144a moment to tell her that it was all right, that Rene was only a fosterbrother, but even as I spoke, I saw that it was not Rene but Mr. Haydento whom I was ministering. From this confusing tangle of compositepersonalities, I drifted into another ambient. The effeminateWainwright was licking my cunny deliciously, and as he paused for amoment to masturbate, I twisted around and cried: “Wait! I’ll show youa better way!” With my thighs across his face I took his small but rigidmember in my mouth and sucked it until he had an emission.When I finally awoke it was late noon and the echoes of some of theselurid dreams were still reverberating through my brain. I felt wet andsticky between the legs and my clitoris was in erection. When I hadgotten my confused thoughts in order and separated the real from theunreal, I sat up in bed and glanced at-my companion.He was sleeping soundly and quietly on his back, his curly head highon the pillow, lips slightly parted over white even teeth. He hadthrown the blankets aside and was covered only by a sheet. I glanceddownward over the recumbent form. Halfway down its length thesheet rose sharply, projected upward in the form of a little tent. As Ifixed my eyes on this significant pinnacle-like projection, I saw that itwas jerking sharply at short intervals.I lifted the sheet without disturbing him. That indefatigable, tirelesscock was standing upright, as firm and rigid as a bar of iron. White andgraceful the stout column rose from the profusion of dark and tangledcurls at its base, its plum-coloured head half-hidden, half-revealedunder its natural envelope of satiny skin.Still holding the sheet up, I looked at his face. It was in the peacefulrepose of sound sleep. I thought of my curious dreams and wondered ifhe too was experiencing rare delights with some nebulous shadowland houri; maybe, even he was dreaming of me!The thought set me aquiver. Softly I drew the sheet aside. I extendedmy hand, my fingers closed cautiously around the pulsing column. For145a moment I was content to hold it thus, then, watching his facecarefully for signs of awakening, I moved my hand up and down,slowly, gently, so that the silken foreskin closed over the scarlet headand then, receding downward, revealed it in its stark-nakedness.Twice, thrice, I moved it so, pausing after each movement to seewhether it was going to awaken him. At the fourth or fifth movementhe stirred uneasily, murmuring some incoherent word. I waited,motionless, until his even breathing assured me that he was still deepin slumber, and began again.”When he wakes up,” I thought, “I’ll make him tell me what he wasdreaming about that made his thing hard this way.”My wrist slid downward, the white elastic skin descended, and againthe scarlet head protruded nakedly. As I paused, holding it in thisposition, I saw a round, glistening drop of limpid transparency emergeslowly from the orifice at the tip.As I observed this natural reaction to my manipulations a wave oflewdness swept over me, and in an instant I was in a state of passionbordering on nymphomania, dominated by but one thought, onedriving desire, arid that was to feel the rigid, pulsating thing plungingin my mouth, to suck it and lick it until the spurting essence broughtrelief to the frenzy which now possessed me.I literally flung myself upon it, indifferent now as to whether he wasawake or asleep, and engulfed the ruby head within the circle of mylips. In a regular fury of lust I sucked and licked and bobbed my headup and down to approximate the motions of ordinary fucking.Of course, this violent disturbance aroused my companion instantly,but I was too engrossed in my own passion to be hardly more thanaware that he was sitting up in bed, and that his hands were claspingmy face as though to guide the movements of my bobbing head.146Indifferent to all else I sought only to force the living fountain betweenmy lips to pour out its elixir as quickly as possible. Instinctively I knewthat when it spurted fourth, my own organism would yield in harmony.It was trembling now in that delicious borderland of anticipation, andneeded but the final inspiration to precipitate its own shower of lust.Between my thrusting, encircled lips the muscular flesh seemedsuddenly to grow more taut. It held so for a second, and then withmighty convulsions poured out its tribute, wave on wave of hot,pungent ambrosia. Gasping, choking with the deluge whichthreatened to strangle me, I writhed in the ecstasies of orgasm whichcame upon me in the same moment.The reaction to this furious excess was a spell of enervating lassitude.As I came out of it and my chaotic thoughts took on a semblance oforder, I was filled with amazement at the demoniacal frenzy which hadtaken possession of me. Next came the thought of what had become ofthe spurting jets that indomitable geyser had poured out. The odd,pungent taste was still in my mouth, but I recalled that I had almostchoked with the quantity that had flooded it. When he had assaultedme the night before I had spit most of it out, though I had been forcedto swallow some. I glanced at the bed to see if, u*********sly, I hadejected it. The bed was dry and clean. Seemingly, it had all gone downmy throat.I remembered the absurd story he had told me about the French girl.”Well,” I observed, “if it’s true a girl can get a baby by swallowing thatstuff, I guess I’m going to have one.””k**, that was great!” he exclaimed. “The first time in my life that I canrecall that I really enjoyed being waked up.””I don’t know whatever possessed me,” I murmured in someembarrassment. “It came on me all of a sudden. I woke up and saw yourthing sticking up. I knew you were dreaming something nice, or it147wouldn’t be that way. I thought I’d tease you by frigging it while youwere asleep, and then, all of a sudden I just got a regular fit to do thatand I couldn’t stop myself!””It was wonderful, k**, wonderful! I always get a hard-on when I sleeplate in the morning and there was something, oh, more than ordinarilythrilling in being waked up that way. I’ve had lots of women, but itnever occurred to any of them to do that, I mean, while I was stillasleep. It’s something new to put in the book!””What book?” I asked.”Oh, I was speaking figuratively. Something new to remember.””Did you really enjoy it so much?””Well, rather! If the old pego could talk it would say: ‘thank you, athousand times, Miss!'””What were you dreaming about that was making it hard like that?””Well now, that’s difficult to answer. Whatever it was it couldn’t havebeen half as good as what really happened. I have funny dreams, but Ican’t seem to remember them clearly after I wake up. About all I everrecall is that there, was a girl in them. I must have been dreamingabout you this time. Do you have dreams… I mean, naughty ones?””I had some fierce ones last night,” I confessed. “I guess they weremostly the cause of me doing that!””What were they about, baby?” he asked curiously.”Oh, mostly about you,” I lied, not wanting to say that I had dreamed ofother men while sleeping at his side.”Were they pleasant dreams?” he insinuated.148″Well, you saw what they made me do! I’ll bet you think now for surethat I’m accustomed to doing that!””No, honestly, I don’t, k**. I didn’t give it a thought at first, but later Isaw you weren’t up to it. I felt kind of ashamed afterwards for havingmade, you do it.””Oh, I was mad it first, but I don’t care now. It gave me a thrill, too. It’sthe truth, though, I’d never done it before. But I’ll wager you’ve done itthat way to plenty of other girls.””You’d know I was lying if I denied it. And you wouldn’t like me anybetter, even if I hadn’t ever done it before, would you?””No,” I answered slowly, “I don’t blame a man for having all the fun hecan. If I were a man, I’d do everything there is that’s naughty. I’d do thatto girls, and the other way, too.””What other way?””The way you did first last night… with your tongue.””Oh, you like it that way, do you?””It just sets me crazy.””k**, I like your style. I made a deal with the old lady to have you oncea week, but to tell you the truth I wasn’t sure that I’d care about comingback even a second time. You couldn’t shake me now if you tried. I likea girl who hasn’t the silly idea of trying to fool a man with mockmodesty.””You’re married… aren’t you?” I inquired tentatively, though I knew hewas.”Yes, I am, unfortunately.”149″Why unfortunately? Isn’t she nice?””That’s it, exactly. Too damned nice. She’s the answer to why men likeyour kind of girl. She’s an iceberg, a frigid monument to chastity in itsmost exaggerated conception. Everything related to sex is immoral.The only justification for a man getting into his wife’s bed is when its forcreating offspring, and then it’s a nasty, degrading business.”In my mind’s eye there formed a picture of a pious, dour-faced female,embittered perhaps through the lack of physical attractions, whoselife was dedicated to the suppression of all those natural instincts andlongings which make living worthwhile. I had heard of such.”Good heavens!” I gasped. “Why did you marry a woman like that?””Reasons of family,” he replied gloomily.Of a naturally credulous and ingenuous disposition, my heartimmediately swelled with sympathy for my companion’s misfortune. Ihad yet to learn that there are always two sides to every story, and thatone must know both to properly judge their respective merits.”I’m sorry to know of that,” I said sincerely. “When you come here I’lltry to make you forget your unhappiness. I’m not cold-blooded,’ but Iguess you know that already!””You’re a fine k**, and I won’t forget you. Wish I could stay longer but Ihave an appointment at two o’clock and it’s an important one. I’d betterdress and toddle along before I weaken.”With further desultory conversation we dressed and Monty preparedto leave. He held me for a moment in his arms at the door, lingering justlong enough to lift my dress, slide his hand inside my panties and givemy bottom a few lascivious squeezes.”I’ll see you next Wednesday night without fail.” And he was gone.150CHAPTER 12I stood for a moment thinking pensively of all that had transpired andthen turned my eyes toward the dressing table upon which he hadunobtrusively laid a bank note. It was for five pounds. I folded it up andtucked it in my stocking.That afternoon I sat on Hester’s bed, telling her about my new patron.She listened attentively, asked a few questions, and in a burst ofconfidence, I told her all that had happened.”Oh, Jessie!” she exclaimed in genuine distress. “You shouldn’t havedone that! I had a presentiment against that man the first time I sawhim talking to you. I just had a feeling that he’d get the best of yousomeway! Lafronde shouldn’t have given him any appointments withyou!””What’s the harm?” I answered lightly. “He gave me five pounds!””What’s the harm? There’s plenty of harm! When a girl starts that, she’sfinished!””What do you mean… finished?” I rejoined sceptically.”Why… why… it grows on you! You shouldn’t have let him do that! Youshould have screamed!””Wouldn’t that have made a hit with Lafronde, me screaming at fouro’clock in the morning that a man was trying to do it to me in themouth!””I don’t care whether it would have made a hit with her or not! Youshouldn’t have let him get away with it! And then you did it again inthe morning, of your own accord? Oh, Jessie!””Yes, I did! It wasn’t bad… I like him. Anyway, what are you talkingabout? You’ve done the same thing with Mr. Hayden. I’ve seen you!”151″Oh, Jessie, that’s different. I never really did it with him. I just put it inmy mouth for a moment to wet it. He never actually fucked me in themouth and never wanted to. He’s too much of a gentleman, and youknow it!””Well, I don’t see much difference.””Well, I see plenty, and I wish you had never met that man!””You’re so funny, Hester. When I knew you in the reformatory I used tothink there wasn’t anything you were shy of. Now here you arepreaching to me!””I’m not preaching, honey. It’s just that I’ve had more experience thanyou, and I know what you have to watch out for!”She smiled at me affectionately.”Remember Heloise?” I asked teasingly.”Yes; she was an example of exactly what I mean now. Fooling withsome perverted idea until it takes a hold on you, and the first thing youknow, you’re a regular slave to it!””You did something with her and you didn’t get to be a slave to it!””I just let her out of deviltry and curiosity, and it disgusted me morethan anything else. Just before you came here I had some more of thatsame stuff, too. Lafronde sent me out on a call from a woman.””You never told me that! Who was she?””Oh, some man-hating female with crazy ideas. I’ve forgotten hername. She lived in a hotel. She telephoned here to have a girl sent toher rooms and Lafronde picked me. I needed some extra money or Iwouldn’t have gone.”152″What did she want?””She didn’t want much of anything except to lick another woman’scunt. It was perfectly disgusting, but I lay down and let her do it. Shecalled back twice after that, and then she told Lafronde not to send meanymore because I wasn’t ‘responsive’ enough. Lafronde asked her ifshe could send a different girl and she said yes, if she had one with alittle life in her. Imagine that! There was a cute little witch here namedYolanda, very shy and quiet, but she was supposed to be one of thosekind that like other girls. Lafronde asked her if she wanted to go out onthe call and she said yes. A few days after that, early one morning, shesneaked her things out without saying a word to anyone anddisappeared. So everybody supposed she had gone with this woman.Poor k**, if she did, she’s probably on the streets now. Those kind ofwomen are more exacting and harder to get along with than a man.They get tired of a girl quick and want new ones all the time. You see,Jessie, I know all about these things, and that’s why I’m not in dangerfrom them as you would be. You’re an innocent little fool, and you’llfall for anything anyone wants to put over on you.””Well thanks, you sweet old thing, for your compliments, and for beingso concerned about me. If I was a man, I’d do something nice to youright now for being so good to me.”Hester laughed.”I read in the papers that some doctor in Vienna has discovered how tochange people’s sex. If you’ll let him change yours, I’ll save my moneyto pay for it, and when you’ve, got a nice cock we’ll get married andlive happily forever afterwards!””O-o-o-h Hester!” I breathed in mock seriousness. “If that doctor canmake me have a six-inch cock and we get married, will you suck it forme every night?””You nasty little pervert!” she exploded, bursting into laugher. “Youtake a suck of this!” She pressed her hand between her kimono-153covered legs and rubbed two or three times. “Since you’ve developedinto a cock-sucker you might as well suck cunts, too!””No, I won’t suck your cunny, but I will suck your titties!” I exclaimed,and before she could defend herself I had tumbled her backward onthe bed, pulled her kimono open, and gotten my mouth on the nippleof one of her bubbies.”Stop! Stop! You’re tickling me!” she cried, hysterical with laughter.”Jessie, stop! You’re making me have goose flesh all over my body! Stopit, will you!”Resisting her efforts to dislodge me for a few moments, I clung to hertitty and then releasing it, raised up to look triumphantly into herflushed face. She was still shaking hysterically, both her plump, roundbreasts protruding from the disordered kimono.”Let’s see if we can fuck each other!” I whispered teasingly.”You crazy little fool! Get off me!” she gasped. “Let me up! I can’tbreathe! You’re pressing down on my stomach!””Come on… just for fun… to see if we can do it!” I persisted, now overcomewith laughter myself at her comic, half-serious expostulations, anddespite her efforts to stop me, I succeeded in pulling her kimono openentirely.She had no panties on, but I, unfortunately did. To get them off, andprevent her from escaping while I was doing so would probably havebeen an impossibility. However, she suddenly relaxed.”All right, you nasty little cocksucker! Let’s see just how far you willgo!”This was a challenge which brooked no compromise, and though it wasall in fun, I wasn’t going to be the one to back down.154Raising up on one arm, I slipped my panties down and wriggled mylegs free of them. When I nestled down again, our bare breasts andstomachs were, together, and against my cunny I could feel the softpressure of Hester’s silky pubic hair.”Now do you still want to see how far I’ll go?””Yes, I do!””Very well; when you’ve had enough, you can say so!”Whereupon I slid down a bit and got my legs between hers. Thismanoeuvre brought our respective cunnies into still more intimatecontact, and I rubbed mine against hers, pressing in as deeply as Icould.But I abruptly discovered that this was apt to be more devastating tome than to her because my clitoris and the sensitive parts of my cunnywere exposed to the friction while hers were covered with hair.Furthermore, despite the fact that this had all started in fun, I wasbeginning to get hot.Shifting away from her sufficiently to get my hand down to the sourceof the obstruction. I parted the soft hair with my fingers, separated thelips of her cunny, and then quickly pressed mine against the exposedmembranes. She submitted to these manipulations without resistance,but flinched perceptibly as the moist flesh of our cunnies cametogether.As for myself, I was almost instantly aware that this hot, moist contactof sensitive parts was capable of producing some erotic reactions I hadnot in the least suspected. I realized that they were not the normal oneswhich come through contact of opposite sexes in response to the lawsof Nature, but rather the forced surrender of the senses to a purelymechanical stimulation, as in masturbation.155Nevertheless, a delicious sensation was the immediate result and it feltnicer than when I masturbated. I rubbed my cunny against hers as bestI could. It was an awkward proceeding and her hair kept getting in theway, obliging me to stop repeatedly to draw it aside. Had hers beenfree of hair as mine was, the contact would have been much moresatisfactory. Even so, I was soon trembling, and Hester was moaningaudibly.In an effort to maintain a comical aspect to what had now ceased to bea joke, I managed to gasp:”Do you… still want to… see how far… I’ll… go?”Her arms tightened about my shoulders.”Don’t talk! Oh! You’re making me… ah… ah… a-a-a-ah!””Oh! You’re making me, too! Press… right there… o-o-o-oh!”A few minutes later, flushed and dishevelled, we were looking at eachother in comical and guilty confusion.Hester jerked her kimono over the glistening curls between her legs,and very red in the face, exclaimed:”I never dreamed you’d have the nerve to really do that or I wouldn’thave, let you start it!””Oh, shut up, you darned preacher. You wanted it as much as I did!””If anyone had seen us, we’d never have heard the last of it,” shemurmured, glancing toward the door. “Yes! That door was unlatched!Anyone could have walked in!” she added in consternation.I giggled, recalling other doors which had been left unlatched.”Like you did when Rene and I were saying good-bye.”156″Why don’t you think of such things?” she asked reprovingly.”Well, for heaven’s sake! Am I the only one who’s supposed to do anythinking? Anyway, nobody came in, so why worry about it now? Andeven if they did, this place isn’t supposed to be a Sunday schoolexactly, you know!””Listen, you! Don’t you ever dare tell anyone! It’s something I never didbefore and I’m never going to do it again, either!””Don’t be silly! You know I won’t tell anyone!”157CHAPTER 13The week passed by and I was waiting for Monty’s second visit. He hadsent me a note, couched in affectionate terms, assuring me that hewould be in without fail.Of my earlier patrons but two continued to call on me with faithfulregularity; Mr. Thomas, and the effeminate Wainwright. Poor DaddyHeely was in a hospital, a nervous breakdown, according to reports. Iwondered guiltily whether maybe the excitation my antics causedhim had something to do with his condition. I had become quitefascinated with the Miss Innocence role I had built up for hisedification, and had gone to extremes in thinking up erotic situationswhich could be presented to him in the guise of “maidenly”confidences. He was physically unable to savour the more materialdelights of concupiscence, and I had supplanted the lack with artfullydesigned mental and visual extravaganzas. Probably I hadoverstepped the mark in my enthusiasm, and sent him into apsychopathic ward.Mr. Castle had simply disappeared. In addition to Monty I had anothernew patron of several weeks standing and indifferent qualities whohad so far not distinguished himself by any eccentricities worthmentioning except one: he required that I be fully dressed on theoccasion of his visits, and that I permit him to undress me. Withceremonial dignity by me, he divested me of my garments one by oneuntil I stood before him, a modern Eve sans fig leaf. Thereafter, whattook place was of orthodox regularity, a proceeding sanctioned bycustom dating back into the most remote of prehistoric times as far as Iknow. In other words, he did just what men have been doing to girlssince the dawn of time.Monty had asked me to have a substantial supply of liquor availableon his future visits and I had complied with the request. On a littletabouret near the bed was a quart bottle of Scotch whiskey of a markhe had indicated, together with a siphon of seltzer and glasses.158I hummed a song as I stood before the mirror for a last minute,inspection to be sure that my hair was just right and that my face wasproperly powdered and my lips the correct shade of red. But mythoughts were not on the song, nor more than casually on the face thatwas reflected from the depths of the big mirror. I was thinking, withdelicious little quivers of anticipation, of the several hours ofunchastely which were in the immediate perspective. I was sure hewould “French” me again, for had I not confessed to him mypredilection for the delicate caress? And if he did, and if he were niceto me in other ways, well, maybe I would repay him by doing againwhat I had done when I woke him up.Hester said that after a girl started she was finished, because it grew onher. Nonsense. That might be true in some instances, and not in others.Hester meant well, but she didn’t know me as well as she thought shedid. She had a room engagement herself tonight, but had slipped awayfor a few minutes to speak to me.”You be careful with that man Austin, Jessie! He’s not your type!”Not my type, indeed! What kind of a man did she think my type was?A senile old innocent like Daddy Heely, or a perverted fool like Mr.Castle, whose one ambition in life was to do it to a girl in her bottom, ora semi lunatic like Wainwright, who paid a girl to let him masturbateall over her legs?From all of which it will be seen that I was pretty well convinced Iknew better what I wanted than Hester did.Reflected in the mirror, I saw the door opening gently and the face, ofthe man I was thinking about appeared. I pretended not to haveobserved his entrance, and a second later he had clasped me frombehind. With my knees hanging over his arm he lifted me into the airand buried his face in my bosom. I felt his hot breath on my breasts ashe forced it through the texture of the scant garments which coveredthem.159″That’s a nice way to come into a young lady’s room, without evenknocking,” I scolded playfully. “Suppose I had been doing something Ididn’t want you to see?””In that case, I’d have, shut my eyes!” he responded. “But what wouldyou be doing that you wouldn’t want me to see?””Sometimes girls play with themselves when they feel naughty, andthey wouldn’t want a man to see that!””Ha!” he laughed, as he set me back on my feet and drew off his gloves.”You’re not confessing that you practice self-abuse, are you?””If I do, do you think I’d tell you?””Of course not! That’s something no woman ever confesses to a man.””Well, prepare for a shock then. I do it often.””Amazing! I’ve known scores of girls and women and you’re the onlyone that ever abused herself!””How do you know the others didn’t?””Because I asked them and they said they didn’t. Congratulations toyou! Your score goes up another ten points!””Because I play with myself?””No! Because you admit it! Baby, you’ve given me an idea! I’ve… butwait… I’ll speak of it later.””Tell me now!””No; let’s get comfortable and have a drink first. I’ve got lots of things Iwant to tell you.”160″All right, but it’s cruel to arouse a woman’s curiosity and then makeher wait.””Let your curiosity suffer for a few minutes. I’ll dispel it pretty soon.””Well, then, let me hang up your things. Now sit down in this chair andmake yourself comfortable. And here’s that Scotch and seltzer you toldme to get for you.””It’s for you, too. You like it, don’t you?””Yes, but the trouble is, after I’ve had about three glasses I lose all mymaidenly modesty.””So much the better! Have three glasses right now!”I laughed.”Here goes number one. My modesty is now one third dissipated. Whatis it you’ve got to tell me first? I hope it’s something nice.””First, I want to tell you how absolutely topping you look. You’re agood-looking girl no matter what you’ve got on, or haven’t got on, ofcourse, but those dresses, there’s a sort of sophisticated c***dishnessabout them that’s irresistible. They’re devilishly ingenious. Are theyyour own idea, or did somebody else think them up?”The dress referred to, as you may have guessed, was another of thelittle-girl frocks Daddy Heely had paid for. I had worn one theprevious week and as it seemed to have taken Monty’s fancy, I hadselected another on the present occasion. It was a single-piece frock ofblack silk with a white belt, and long, tight sleeves. The cuffs, neck andbreasts were lined with pleated ruffles and under laid with creamcoloured lace.161To go with these dresses I had some dainty high-heeled Spanishslippers and black silk hose which I rolled just above my knees andfastened with elastic band garters. Except for one detail the costumewas eminently respectable. That detail was the extreme shortness ofthe dress.It barely reached to my knees when I was standing, and when I sat in anormal posture there was no surplus material to be pulled down in aladylike fashion. The dress was juvenile, but my legs were not. When Iobserved Daddy Heely’s liking to sit on the floor at my feet I easilyguessed the reason, and you can too.Tonight, for certain optimistic reasons related to what Monty had firstdone on his previous visit, I had not put on any panties, and under theblack silk frock was nothing except a diaphanous silk chemise,undervest, and brassiere.I hesitated at this last question, not wanting to tell him the exact originof the dresses, and as he did not press the query, I let it passunanswered.”What else have you to tell me?””Well, I must also tell you I’ve passed this whole blessed weekpositively thinking of nothing but you. I had such a ripping good timewhen I was here before that you’ve been on my mind ever since. Theold pego has been in a continuous state of perturbation. Embarrassingat times, don’t you know. Night before last I thought something reallyought to be done about it. I tried the wife’s door and it was unlocked, soI went in. She was asleep, or what I thought more likely, pretending tobe asleep. The time is now, I thought, as I pulled the covers off her; thegirl is here, and so is the place right there in the centre of her bird’s nest.If I hadn’t been well soused, I’d have known better. This is what I got?”162And turning his face sidewise he indicated something I had not yetobserved; three long, partially healed scratches down the length of hischeek.”My heavens!” I exclaimed. “If she’s like that, and you don’t care for her,why do you want to do it with her?””Any port in a time of storm,” he answered ruefully, shrugging hisshoulders. “A man can’t always make his cock behave.””Well, I think that’s strange! If I were a man and I didn’t like a woman,I’m sure I wouldn’t want to fuck her!””That’s what you think, baby. When a man gets in a certain state, hehas to do something. When I was in South Africa I even fucked kinkyheadedKaffir girls. A half a loaf, or even a black loaf, is better thannone!””And so, you got your pretty face scratched. It served you right. Is thatall you got?””To all intents and purposes, yes. There were quite, a few commentariesand observations of an interesting nature thrown in for good measure.”I couldn’t help laughing but at the same time, deep inside me, a littlecanker of jealousy that he should have wanted to do it with her beganto form.”Is your wife pretty?” I asked suddenly.”About as pretty compared to you as a moth is in comparison to abeautiful, exotic butterfly.”His words relieved the vague foreboding which had come over me, andfor the moment I forgot the matter.163″What else have you to tell me?””I want to ask you something. Suppose I should want to take you outsome night to a show, a cabaret, a party, or maybe pass the night in ahotel, could you get away?””I guess so, I’d have to ask Madame Lafronde. She doesn’t like to have,the girls go out, but sometimes she lets them. I’ve never been away allnight. I suppose if you gave her something extra you could get her tolet me, maybe.””All right; that’s that. She can’t hold you in captivity. If she getsrambunctious I’ll take care of things. And now that the incidentals aredisposed of, the momentous question is: how shall we pass the night toget the most fun possible out of it?”I leaned over close to him and, cupping my hands around my lips,slowly spelled out my recommendation in his ear: “F-u-c-k-i-n-g!””Moved, seconded, and unanimously adopted! Let’s start!””Shall I get undressed now?””No, I want to enjoy that dress awhile first, if you don’t mind rumplingit. Let’s lie down on the bed and just tease for a little while.””All right! But wait… you forgot something… you were going to tell mesomething else, you started to tell me and then you said you’d tell melater!””Ah, yes!” he exclaimed, laughing, sinking back into his chair. “Before Imention that, I think you’d better take those other two drinks!””Oh! It’s something that’s going to put a strain on my modesty, is it?””Better not ask any questions until after you’ve had the drinks.”164″You’re torturing me with curiosity! All right, here goes one… and… heregoes the other. That makes three altogether. My modesty is now in adormant state!””Well,” he said, still laughing, “you put the idea in my head with yournonsense about playing with yourself. You made me think ofsomething odd, a blank void in my life. I’ve been all over the world, I’velived with a dozen women more or less and enjoyed the transitoryfavours of hundreds of others. I’ve seen all kinds of naughty shows andexhibitions, and if anyone had asked me, I’d have sworn there wasn’t asingle act in the whole encyclopaedia of sexual arts I hadn’t witnessed.I’ve even seen actual ****s of young girls in show bagnios in Cairo. Butwhile you were joking about abusing yourself it came over me that Inever actually saw a girl masturbating herself. I mean, really byherself, just as though she were alone and nobody watching her.””Oh, heavens! I know what’s coming! Give me another drink, quick! Mymodesty never lived through three before, but ifs squirming andtwitching now!””Listen, baby!” he exclaimed between convulsions of laughter, “I’vehad something squirming and twitching all week on account of you! Ihad it pretty well under control the last time, but it’s ready to go off onthe slightest provocation now, and I think I’d better not expose it to anydirect heat, that is, if I want to keep it in a playful humour for a fewhours!””What a lovely way of saying you want to keep a hard-on! All right,where do I fit into the picture?””Well, with the idea you put in my head, and having in mind yourinexhaustible resources, I thought possibly you might be kind enoughto stage a little entertainment, enjoy yourself voluptuously, and at thesame time gratify my prurient curiosity. Kill two birds with one stone,as the saying goes!”165I could not, of course, restrain my laughter, but at the same time theerotic titillations which the lewd suggestion evoked were vibratingthrough me and my face, felt like it was on fire.”I guessed it. In plain words, you want to see me masturbate myself!Well, I’ve done it when there was no man around, but it will be the firsttime I ever did it with one right by me!””Then you’ll be accommodating?””Excellency, I’m yours, body and soul, and your slightest wish is mycommand! How… how…” I exclaimed, again gasping with laughter, “…how am I supposed to do it?””Don’t ask me! I don’t know how girls do it! I’m not even supposed to behere! escort bursa You’re doing it just as though you were alone!””Very well! But I’d better take another drink to make sure my modestystays u*********s. It was never put to such a test before! Well, first, oh,ha, ha, ha, do I have to tell you what I’m thinking about while I’m doingit, too?””That would add greatly to the realism!””Well, first, I’m all alone, like you said, and I’m thinking aboutsomething I did with a man I liked… I’m thinking about what you and Idid when you were here before…””Just a moment! I’m not supposed to be here, but you oblige, me toobtrude for a second. What you and I did when I was here before -wedid a number of things. Be more specific in the interests of lucidity andrealism!””Well, ha, ha, ha, I’m thinking of everything we did, and especiallywhat you did to me first, while I was lying on the bed here, before Iundressed!”166″Proceed. I’m withdrawn from the room again,””I’m thinking about how you licked me down there, and it makes mefeel hot. My little thing in the top of my cunny gets hard and I’mwishing you were here to do that again. And the more I think of it, theworse it gets, and pretty soon I think I’d better do something to relievethe feeling.”I can’t decide at first whether I will or not, and I walk over to mybureau and get these pictures and take this one out and look at it…”Excuse me for coming in again, let’s see that picture… u-um!””As I was saying when I was interrupted by a phantom voice, I look atthe picture. It’s a very nice picture of a naked man and a naked woman,and the man has got his face, down between the woman’s legs and he’sdoing something to her with his mouth. I think to myself, I wish thatwoman were me and the man Monty. But they aren’t, so after I’velooked at it awhile I put it back with the rest of the pictures and hidethem under the clothes in my bureau.”I think, what’s the harm, I might as well do it, a little, anyway. So Icome back to the bed and lie down on my back, like this, with myknees up and kind of apart, and pull my dress up out of the way.”Then I put my hand down like this, with my two fingers, oh, ha, ha, ha,and shut my eyes, and, ha, ha, ha, rub this little, hard thing, kind of slowand easy, with just the tips of my fingers, and it feels awful good, andthe more I rub it…”At this point the realism I had injected into the pantomime threatenedto overcome me, and I paused, hysterical with laughter.”… and the more I rub… the more I rub…” I gasped… “the nicer it feels…until… until… the nice feeling… just seems to… burst inside me… OH!… likeit’s… DOING NOW!”167I wiped away the tears which hysterical laughter had brought to myeyes. My face was burning as I turned toward my companion. His face,too, was a dull red; his reaction to the lewd portrayal had not beenmuch less than my own. He sprang toward me, and I knew what heintended to do.”No, no!” I panted. “Not now! Wait for me a moment! I’m dead downthere now! Let me go wash myself and then I’ll be all right!”On unsteady feet I went to the bathroom and laved myself with tepid,scented water. Before I had finished my vitality was returning and thewarm glow of voluptuous desire was beginning to re-establish itself.”Well, Excellency, is your naughty curiosity satisfied? Now you knowa girl’s last secret!””Baby!” he answered in a tense voice, “that affected me more than itdid you, I think. I was so near going off I couldn’t have held it anothersecond! Look at this…”Unbuttoning the front of his trousers he took his cock out anddisplayed it, turgid and throbbing, to my eyes; he slipped the foreskindown and the plum-coloured head appeared, dripping with limpidmoisture.”Just sympathetic tears,” he murmured, “I didn’t come, but I was veryclose to it.”I went again to the bathroom and brought a small wet towel andwiped away the tears. “Careful! Careful!” he cautioned, as I fingeredthe palpitating column. “It won’t take much to release the trigger! I’llhave to let the fire die down a little before I put it in you, baby, andmeanwhile…” he smiled understandingly, “… and meanwhile, you canlie down on the bed and take it easy while I pay you back forentertaining me in such a realistic way!”168″Shall I get undressed?””No, just lie down like you were a minute ago. You were reallyentrancing with your little dress up and the white of your bottom andthighs against the black background of dress and hose. That’s it… justlike, you were before… with your knees up and your legs apart!”He sat down on the edge of the bed, passed his fingers over the crevicebetween my legs in a lingering caress, and then his mouth descendedon it.What havoc an ardent, enthusiastic tongue can work in a girl’s cunny! Itried to steel my nerves against it to prolong the exquisite sensation,but it was no use, I couldn’t hold it back long and all too soon I wasmelting in his mouth. As the echoes died away, I pushed him from meto lie for a while in fainting languor.It would take too long to relate all that transpired during those mad,sensuous hours, even if I could remember every act in all its lewddetails. Suffice, it to draw the curtain with the final scene wherein,hours later, intoxicated both with liquor and lust, I perceived thatMonty’s face was again between my thighs, his hot lips pressed againstmy cunny. My dress, now displaced and rumpled, partly hid his face ashe sucked and licked the avid flesh. He himself had long sincedisrobed and was completely naked.As he crouched over me I could see his cock, still enticingly rigid, as itprojected its muscular length outward.”Turn this direction, Monty!” I whispered, “so we can do it the 69 way!”He reversed his position and the next moment it was touching my lipsin a moist kiss as he knelt over my face and again buried his ownbetween my trembling thighs. My lips shaped themselves in a tightring around its mouth and neck and took the, visitor in.169The odd, indescribable savour again filled my mouth, breeding withinme, not distaste or disgust, but a wild hunger to feel it spurting like ahot fountain in my mouth and throat. So imperious was the urge, that Iscarcely now heeded the penetrating tongue which but a momentbefore had evoked such exquisite, torment. I thought of nothing but todrain the nectar from the living flesh about which my lips were pursed,to receive its hot gushes in my mouth.It would give me an orgasm even quicker than having my clitorissucked. I felt it, I knew it, the poison had entered my soul, this, this wasthe supreme act of voluptuous delight, and nothing hereafter wouldever give me the same thrill. All else would be incidental, superficial,this was the ultimate caress by the side of which all others receded intonothingness.170CHAPTER 14When I awoke, it must have been around noon. My head was achingdully and in my mouth was a queer, pungent taste which puzzled mefor a moment, and then I remembered. I sat up in bed. I was starknaked,and I was alone. On the little tabouret near the bed was anempty whiskey bottle which accounted, in part at least, for theheadache.D****d carelessly over a chair were my clothes-dress, camisole,brassiere, and stockings. I had no recollection of having undressed nordid I know when or under what circumstances I had fallen asleep.Monty must have taken off my clothes and subsequently departedwithout awakening me. At what hour he had gone I had not thefaintest idea.Painfully I dragged myself from bed and went to my mirror. My hairwas a tangle and there were violet shadows under my eyes. I shiveredand pressed my hands to my throbbing temples. What a night! Montyhad gone without awakening me. This reminded me of something, andI turned toward my dressing table. There were some bank notes there,weighted down with one of my perfume flasks, and under them a slipof paper with some pencilled scribbling:”The next time, don’t have on any lipstick. You left red rings all aroundit.See you next Wednesday night. Love and Kisses. Monty.”I rubbed my fingers over my lips and smiled involuntarily as I viewedthe result. Then I tore the note into shreds and threw the pieces into thewastebasket.171I did not feel like dressing so I merely bathed my face, brushed out myhair, and went back to bed after ringing for the maid. She brought mesome coffee, and toast, and I asked her to tell Madame Lafronde that Ihad a headache and would not be down until later.About three o’clock Madame Lafronde came up to see me.”What’s the matter, Jessie? Anything wrong?””No; my sleeper kept me awake all night, and I’ve a headache, that’sall.””You can rest up tonight. You needn’t come downstairs if you don’t feellike it. How are you getting on with Austin?””All right. He’s not so bad. I like him. He gave me another five pounds.””Well, be, smart, and keep him in a giving humour. I was ratherdoubtful about him at first. He’s got a bad reputation.”I stayed in my room the rest of the afternoon and evening, but alongabout ten o’clock I got restless, and hearing a great deal of laughterfloating up from the parlour I decided to dress and go down.Under the genial guidance of a gentleman who had just come fromAmerica, a game of “strip poker” was in hilarious progress. Five girlswere seated around a small table, cards were dealt to them, and thepenalty of a losing hand was the removal of one of the few pieces ofapparel the loser wore. To keep up the morale of the players, a grandprize to the winner, and consolation prizes to the losers were beingoffered.Already one of the girls was down to her panties, and another topanties, brassiere and one stocking. Even as I stood there trying tograsp the intricacies of the game, a shout went up, and the unfortunatein panties threw down her cards in disgust.172″Come on, Bobby! No welching! Take them off!”Now it is one thing to take your panties off in the presence of a man inthe privacy of a room, and quite another to take them off in front of acrowd of laughing people, and I smiled faintly as I watched the victim’sflushed face.But welching is an unforgivable sin in sporting circles, and she wasgame. Off came the little silk panties and the spectators, or themasculine element of them at least, had the pleasure of gazing on thepatch of dark, twisted little curls that rose from the apex of her legsand spread fan-wise over her pubic mount.”Now can I put my clothes on again?””No, no, no! Not until the game is finished!”And so it continued, to the immense delight of the onlookers, until allbut one of the scarlet-faced players were sitting around naked, somepretending a brazen insouciance, others trying to cover their cunniesand breasts with hands and arms.”An insipid idea of fun,” I thought to myself as I looked onindifferently. “Why are men so crazy to look at a girl’s cunt? Onewould think it was the prettiest thing in the world. Whatever they findpretty about one must be in their imaginations. But…” I thought,continuing my moody philosophy, “if men didn’t think they werepretty, it would be just too sad for us.”And an involuntary smile crossed my lips as there came to my mindthe story about the orator for women’s suffrage who shouted from theplatform: “After all, ladies and gentlemen, women are only slightlydifferent from men…” Whereupon a voice from the gallery interrupted:”Hurrah for the slight difference!”173I lingered long enough to pick up some small silver in the form of agratuity from a pleasantly inebriated gentleman who attachedhimself to me and could not be dislodged until I permitted him to puthis hand down the front of my dress and feel my bubbles. He wantedvery badly to go to a room with me, but I managed to divert hisattentions to Hester and made my escape.The next night was Wainwright’s. He came punctually as always andwent through his customary nonsense. Generally I extracted someamusement from my exalted status of Fairy Princess, and although Ihad always to be on the alert to keep him from biting me in themoment of ecstasy, there was something about the fantasticproceeding that left me in an excited condition.He sucked me deliciously, but rarely continued it long enough toquench the fires the caress started. Before I could have an orgasm hewould jerk away from me and masturbate.This night I was in a particularly restless mood. The exhaustionfollowing my orgy with Monty had passed away with a day and nightof rest, and I was again charged with voluptuous longings.Wainwright had concluded his preliminary gallantries and wascrouched over his Fairy Princess on his knees, his head and shouldersinclined downward and his face between her open legs. His tonguehad started its tantalizing manoeuvers, and the first shivers of lewdexcitation were beginning to generate.With languorous, half-closed eyes I observed his cock sticking outfrom his middle. It was small and slender, much smaller than theaverage, but it was turgidly erect. It was like a c***d’s in comparison toMonty’s.This association of ideas put into my mind the thought of how mucheasier I could manipulate so small a cock in my mouth. The thought174took root and sent a hot glow through me, and in a moment it was nolonger a thought, but a desire.Without a word of explanation to the puzzled Wainwright I wriggledaway from him, turned around on the bed, and got on top of him,straddling his face with my thighs. After a momentary hesitation, andwith a clumsiness which betrayed his unfamiliarity with this classicposition, his tongue again sought out my clitoris.As soon as I perceived that its activities were in progress anew, I putmy head down and took his little cock in my mouth. The mere fact thatit contrasted so in size with the only other one I had dallied with in likemanner inspired me with a sort of fascination, and I set to work on itwith all my recently acquired skill.But, alas, I suffered a deception which chilled and disgusted me. Like,nectar turning to vinegar in the mouth, that erstwhile stiff little cockwhich I was so voluptuously sucking almost immediately began towilt. From its former state of virile rigidity it degenerated into aflaccid, spineless, lifeless little worm, and the harder I tried to inspire itwith a bit of manliness, the more fulminating was the disaster.I released it from my mouth, disappointed, and emulating his owntactics, worked it patiently with my fingers in an effort to resuscitate it,but there was nothing substantial to, grasp; it was like trying to make apiece of string stand up, so limp and flaccid had it become.I could do nothing with it, and disgusted, I got up from the bed.Wainwright’s abasement was pitiful to behold.”Oh, Princess!” he moaned. “Beat me if you wish!”He sounded as though he actually did want me to beat him. It cameover me that if he left under humiliating circumstances he might notreturn again. He was too valuable a patron to lose. It had always been175profitable to humour him; it might be wise to do so in this instance. Ashe grovelled on the floor at my feet I came to a sudden decision.”I will beat you, you vile creature!” I cried.Glancing hastily around the, room I spied his own belt partly visibleunder the clothing he had placed on a chair. Snatching loose the stripof pliant leather I flew at him and began to belabour him across thethighs and buttocks.”Take that… and that… and that… !” I cried, “you evil, depraved b**st! Ifyou ever do that again I’ll… I’ll…” and I paused to think of a sufficientlyominous threat.”Oh, Princess! Oh, Princess!” he moaned, and turned over on his backapparently indifferent as to whether the blows fell on his cock andtesticles.Careful not to strike him in these susceptible parts I continued to rainblows on him. He grovelled, squirmed, and moaned, and suddenly tomy great astonishment I saw that his cock was getting hard again. Andthere before my eyes was realized one of those strange, weirdmanifestations of sexual aberration such as delights the hearts ofpsychoanalysts and psychiatrists.His hand descended to the reviving member which was now liftedupward in a half-erected state. His fingers closed around it, and while,I continued to shower blows upon his naked body he masturbatedhimself to exhaustion.A sight fit for a cabinet in Dante’s Inferno would have been revealedhad anyone unexpectedly intruded in those moments. The man,grovelling naked upon the floor, furiously masturbating, while I, withnothing on but shoes and stockings, my hair dishevelled, my faceflushed, panting and crying imprecations, danced around himbelabouring him frenziedly from all sides.176When it was all over and he was dressed and gone, I sank down on mybed. My heart was thumping and I felt half-suffocated. On the bedbeside me was a heap of money. I figured it indifferently, and came towith a start. The man had literally emptied his pockets! There werebank notes, shillings, pence and even pennies, a total in excess ofanything he had given me before. Surely the man was a lunatic!There came an insistent tapping at the door, and Hester entered. Shelooked at me in astonishment. I was still naked, my face flushed, myhair in disorder.”Jessie! What’s the matter? Did you have trouble with Wainwright?””No; no trouble.””We heard you whipping him and I was uneasy. You never did thatbefore!””Oh, the damned fool,” I ejaculated, “I think he’s crazy.” And I relatedwhat had happened, omitting only the real cause of his having lost hiserection. “He couldn’t get a hard-on without my whipping him and Idid… with his own belt!””Did he give you all that?” she gasped, observing the pile of moneywhich still lay on the bed.”Yes,” I answered shortly.”Gee! You have, all the luck! I wish I had a regular who was crazy theway that fellow is! I’d even let him whip me for that much!””Well, he makes me dizzy. I’m still trembling.””I see you are.. You scared me when I first came in, you looked so… sostrange!”177″What time is it, Hester?””It’s about two o’clock.””Are you going downstairs again?””No; there’s nothing doing. I’m going to turn in.””Listen, Hester, I’m nervous. Sleep in here with me tonight.””All right, I’ll get my… no! I won’t either! I know what you’re thinkingabout, you nasty little pervert!””Please, Hester!””I will not! Get the electric massage machine or jack yourself off ifyou’re so hot!””Please, Hester!””What in the world is the matter with you, Jessie? Don’t you ever getenough? You ought to have yourself castrated!””Please, Hester!””Oh, all right, all right, you disgusting little degenerate!”178CHAPTER 15Six weeks went by with Monty visiting me regularly, and week byweek I found myself sinking deeper into the fatal fascination of thesexual perversion into which he had initiated me. I do not think he wasresponsible for the unnatural desire which was now dominating me, Ithink he was merely the casual and accidental medium through whichexisting but dormant instincts were, aroused.Like the Succubus of ancient Rome my sexual desires were now almostentirely concentrated in this one act. My inclinations for other forms ofgratification were diminishing. Normal intercourse was only anaphrodisiacal irritant if it were not followed by cocksucking. I stillmasturbated to calm my nerves, but it was always with fellatiopictured in my mind as I realized the act.In my hours of passion I felt an actual physical hunger for thespermatic nectar. It was as though it contained some vital, sustainingelement necessary to my health and well-being, and the first taste as Iperceived its saline presence in my mouth precipitated the wildestsexual frenzy. When it came pouring into my throat my own organismresponded instantly, without mechanical stimulation of any kind. I nolonger tried to spit it out as the hot waves laved my tongue; I drank itavidly, hungrily.It is said that the cocksucking instinct is the heritage of c***dren whosemothers, while in an advanced stage of pregnancy, and because of thediscomfort or danger of normal intercourse while in this condition,have themselves resorted to fellatio, thereby afflicting the unbornc***d with the unnatural desire. Whether there is any scientificfoundation for this theory, or whether it is mere superstition I do notknow, but I feel certain, with respect to myself, that the instinct wasinherent and not artificially created.Without any special guidance, refinements and perfections of the artconstitute in part its irresistible allure and enravish the masculinesenses. Gently, softly and slowly realized, an orgasm effected in this179manner sent the recipient, with few exceptions, into the seventhheaven of rapture. A soft, even suction, alternated with the teasingcaress of an active tongue playing over the head and around the, neckof the pulsing glans, supplemented with a slight up and downmovement of the mouth soon had the object of these felicities groaningwith erotic ecstasy.If the subject was slow to reach orgasm, a more intense excitation couldbe induced by the use of the hand in addition. No normal man in ahealthy sexual condition could long resist the luscious combination ofgentle fingers and warm, wet, sucking lips.As the untouched chords of a harp vibrate in harmony with thosewhich are giving forth their tremulous melody, so did my ownorganism yield up its store of passion, an echo to the very paroxysm Iprovoked in another.To Monty’s manifest satisfaction the unique method of awakening himin the morning which I have previously related became a definite partof our erotic program. I looked forward to it with a pleasant glow ofanticipation, and the thought, implanted in my mind, caused me towake earlier than I would otherwise have done.He was a man of unusual virile potency whose sexual vigour reestablisheditself quickly, even after the most enervating exhaustion,and he always had an erection when I woke up. Slyly, cautiously,inspired with a prurient fancy to see how far I could get with it beforehe woke up, I bent my head over the succulent fruit. But in a fewminutes my cautious, discreet restraint gave way to more energeticmovements as my own passions took the ascendancy. And as soon-asthis happened, instead of a sleeping subject, I had one who was verymuch awake indeed.Week by week I looked forward to Monty’s visits with increasingimpatience. My other patrons I simply tolerated. The lack of interest inthem, which I could not entirely conceal, became apparent and before180long I lost Mr. Thomas. Madame Lafronde commented on my petulanthumour, and I told her I was tired of being merely an ornament andwanted as many men as I could get, like the other girls. Some of these,the more attractive, often had three or four different men in a singlenight. She was reluctant to change the existing order and evaded myrequest by telling me she would think it over.I knew she felt that I was more valuable as an “inspirational attraction,and that she feared the complications and ill-humour which wouldinevitably arise when my younger and fresher charms were used tolure the fish from less attractive bait. Maybe, too, she was aware of orsuspected my recently developed cock-sucking proclivities, for littleescaped her shrewd old eyes and if so, no one better than she knewwhat this would do to the peace and tranquillity of the house once thegirls whose clientele I usurped discovered my technique.In fairness to my sisters in vice, I will say that to most of them fellatio isabhorrent and practiced only under duress or the pressure of necessitywhen fading physical attractions render them unfit to compete on aneven basis with younger rivals. Sacrifices must be made to compensate,for advancing years and shrunken breasts.Girls who are alert, good-looking, and possessed of attractive bodiesdo not need to practice fellatio to hold a clientele. But men are quickto take advantage of any weakness and if the caress be obtained once,either by duress or persuasion or voluntary indulgence, it is extremelydifficult to evade further demands.Monty’s confidence to me regarding his conjugal unhappiness anddifferences became more and more candid. Wrapped up in the lewdfascination which the man held for me I gave no thought to the factthat only a bounder and a cad would have made his wife the subject ofsuch intimate confidence to a whore, regardless of what personaldifferences may have existed between them.181He had explained the origin and significance of some long scratchesdown the side of his face, administered by his wife’s agile fingers whenhe had tried to force her. And subsequently, there was a big, blue lumpon one of his shins, the result of a well-placed kick received whiletrying to impose unwanted attention on her.”Wait till she’s undressed next time,” I commented viciously, “or didyou have her like me, with just her shoes and stockings on?”He laughed cynically.”I’d have to c********* her first to see her naked!”Apparently, some disagreement of two or three, years’ standing hadarisen between them and she had consistently and determinedlyrepulsed all amorous advances since then. Picturing her in my mind asI did, an embittered, shrewish woman, I could not for the, life of meunderstand how he was able to feel any desire toward her. But men arecontrary brutes, and to make them want something desperately youhave only to prohibit it. She didn’t want him to fuck her, and, presto,the wish to do so was never out of his mind.These confidences affected me in a peculiar way. I wasn’t in love withMonty in the true sense of the word, but when he told me such things Ifelt twinges of jealousy. It annoyed me that he should perversely wantto do it with her. So distorted can one’s perspective become that hisinordinate desire, to fuck the unfortunate woman inspired me with afeeling of personal animosity against her.At first he had seemed to accept the situation with good-naturedindifference, but lately I had perceived an undercurrent of bitternessand vindictiveness.”Have you ever read De Maupassant?” he asked one night, afterhaving told me of some domestic disagreement.182″No,” I answered, “I’ve heard of him, but I have never read his stories.Why?””Well, among them is one with an idea I’d like to apply to her, withcertain variations.””Tell me about it.””The story is a long one to repeat, but the essence of it is this: A youngFrench noblewoman discovers that her husband is unfaithful to her.She decides to revenge his disloyalty in a manner as startling as it isunique. She hires some, ruffians to enter the house and bind and gaghim securely. When this is done she has him placed behind somecurtains in her boudoir where he will, perforce, be obliged to witnessall that transpires within the room, but without being able to move orinterfere.”Then she calls an old servant who has served her all her life and givesher some instructions. Following these instructions the old woman,after wandering about the streets for a time, accosts a young man ofgenteel appearance, and getting his ear, asks him whether he wouldappreciate, an amorous rendezvous with a young and beautiful womanof nobility sufficiently to bind himself to certain simple conditions, viz:that he permit himself to be blindfolded while being conducted to andfrom the assignation; that during the amorous engagement he lendhimself unreservedly to all the delicate refinements of eroticism forwhich the French people are noted.”The first condition being one of no great consideration, and the secondone which could be easily complied with if the lady were as young andfair and lascivious as the servant claimed, the youth, who was of anaturally adventurous and romantic disposition, did not hesitate longin accepting the mysterious assignation.”Whereupon the old woman signalled a hack, and when he was insideblindfolded him and conveyed him to the lady’s boudoir. Here the183blindfold was removed and the young gallant found himself in thepresence of a vision of nude loveliness which far surpassed hisexpectations.”For an hour the youthful pair disported themselves with voluptuousabandon, neglecting none of the more delicate and refined artifices inwhich mouth and tongue play an important part.”When the cup of love was finally drained to the last drop, the ladysprang from the bed and jerking some curtains aside revealed to thehorrified gaze of the youth the securely bound figure of a man whoglared at him with baleful eyes.”What transpired later when the outraged husband was liberated isleft to the imagination.””A very interesting story,” I observed. “Get me the book so I can read itsomeday. But what has it to do with your wife? Do you want her tohave you tied up and make you watch from behind a curtain while sheFrenches with some fellow?””Heavens, no!” he exploded, “I’d tear her limb from limb if she were toplay such a game on me. But there’s no danger. She’s too prudish. I wastickling my face with quite the reverse of the plot in the story, thinkingwhat fun it would be to tie her up and then have some girl come in, youfor instance, and do just what that French couple did, right before hereyes. Maybe strip her clothes off first, so she’d enjoy it more.””What a horrible idea!” I gasped. “Why do you want to torment andaggravate her? Why don’t you leave her alone?””She’s tormented and aggravated me plenty,” he growled vindictively.”I’ll get even with her, though. Do you know what I’d like?””Yes, I do! It’s not a bit hard to guess! You’d like to fuck her, and youwon’t rest until you do!”184″Wrong, you little spitfire. I’d like to find some way to make her so hotshe’d go down on her knees and beg for it, and when she did, I’d tell herexactly where to go.””Feed her some Spanish fly then,” I suggested dryly.”By Jove! That’s a dashed good idea! Wonder where one can get thebally stuff?””You’d better be careful. I heard a funny story once about a fellow whosneaked some into his wife’s tea to make her passionate. He thoughthe’d better keep out of sight until it took effect so he went out andwalked around the block a couple of times. When he came back hedidn’t see her around, so he looked in her bedroom. And there she was,on the bed, with her clothes up, and the butler on top of her. And thepantry man, the coachman and the gardener were all standing aroundholding their cocks, waiting their turn.””The moral being, that a chappie had better stick around after feedinghis wife Spanish fly,” he laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.””Well, come on, let’s get started. I don’t need any Spanish fly to makeme passionate, I’m that way all the time.”185CHAPTER 16Through the damp London night a luxurious car sped swiftly andsurely, the soft purr of its powerful motors hardly distinguishableabove the swish, swish, swish of rubber-shod wheels upon the wetpavement as they flew onward toward their destinations.Outside of the curtained windows a macabre fog eddied and drifted,at times dimming the street lights with its wispy, ghostly vapours.Within was snug comfort, warmth, life and color.Had curious eyes been permitted to peek inside the glass and curtainshieldedtonneau, a scene of revelry, profanely at variance with thedismal exterior of the night, would have been revealed.Outside, the interminable procession of half suffocated lights vainlytrying to pierce the gray shroud which drew ever closer and closerabout them; inside, the ribald levity of alcohol-inspired abandon, thesheen of silken hose on diaphanous garments fluttered in carelessdisarray above silk-clad knees.There were four occupants in the seclusion of the cozy, glassed-in, andsoftly lighted tonneau. Two of them were gentlemen, modishly attiredin the habiliments dictated by the fashions of the times for eveningwear, and two of them were young girls, whose apparel, if not exactlythat which would have been considered in the best of taste by socialarbiters, was at least beautiful and colourful. The gentlemen,regardless of their half inebriated condition, were patently at home inthe atmosphere of luxury which both the car and their apparelsuggested. The girls, had the imaginary observer surveyed them with acritical eye and taken note of the extreme shortness of their dresses, therouge upon their cheeks, the exaggerated scarlet of their lips and theirindifference to the indiscreet disarray of their clothing, would havebeen catalogued instantly as ladies of that vast assembly politelydescribed as “not nice!”186One of the gentlemen was Monty and one of the girls myself. Thesecond gentleman was another scion of aristocracy known only to meby the nickname Zippy, and his companion was a young Spanish girl ofsaturnine but piquantly beautiful features named Carlota.This was not the first nocturnal outing I had participated in. Yieldingto the influence of the magic wand of gold which Monty had wavedbefore her eyes, Madame Lafronde had consented to this departurefrom the accustomed routine.”I don’t want to stand in the way of your doing the best you can foryourself, but watch your step, girl, watch your step!” were her finalwords on the subject.Tonight we were, to be present at the clandestine showing of somenaughty moving pictures which Zippy had arranged for with anexhibitor at some obscure point far over on the East Side of London.After the show we would dine in the seclusion of a private room in apopular resort.Zippy was a genial chap of very likable personality. He was possessedof a humorous and witty disposition. His droll witticisms and anticskept one constantly laughing, and when he was half under theinfluence of liquor, he kept these around him fairly convulsed.Carlota, whom I had met a few hours before, constituted something ofan enigma. Her attitude toward me was perplexing; I had always beenable to make friends easily, but my overtures to her left herunresponsive and I sensed some coldness, the reason for which I couldnot imagine. At times I found her looking at me covertly and imaginedthere was something baleful in the glint of her dark eyes.Thinking that maybe she regarded my acquaintance with Zippy as apossible menace to the security of her domains in his affection, I wasscrupulously careful not to presume upon the bonhomie spirit of thefour-cornered friendship, and still this explanation did not seem to fit187the circumstances exactly, for she seemed peculiarly tepid in herdemonstrations of affection for the good-looking young aristocrat.Tonight, however, she had apparently cast off her moody lack ofanimation and had entered into the festive spirit of the occasion. Asilver-covered flask was being passed from hand to hand as thesmoothly humming motor carried us onward toward our destination.Ensconced in one corner of the luxuriously upholstered seat, Montyleaned back with me on his lap. At the other end of the seat, Zippyheld Carlota in a similar fashion. A supple, beautiful arm was curvedlightly about his neck, and a small, piquant face was snuggled againsthis.In the pleasant spell of a mild alcoholic languor, I watched themdreamily. I felt happy, contented, and was looking forward to a night ofjoyous abandon with no premonition or presentiment of evil to mar mylight heartedness.Carlota’s skirts were up over her knees, revealing a brief extension offlesh which glinted ivory like in the soft light and was accentuated bythe black sheen of her silk-clad legs. The metallic clasps whichengaged the tops of her hose, holding them smooth and tight about herlegs by means of elastic garters which ascended upward anddisappeared under filmy garments sparkled like jewels as themovement of the car caused the light to vibrate against them.An inquisitive hand, lured on, no doubt, by the seductive disarray ofgarments, fell upon her knee and began an insidious explorationupward, its movements contributing further to the disorder of herclothing and the revealment of more ivory thigh. Of the hand itselfsoon nothing was visible but portions of a white cuff, the rest of it beinglost to sight among the filmy undergarments.Carlota giggled nervously and pressed her legs together, by virtue ofwhich manoeuvre the invading hand was firmly imprisoned betweenwalls of warm, living flesh.188With my head resting on Monty’s shoulder, I watched this lasciviousplay with half-closed eyes. What a pity, I thought, that Carlota wasnot always jolly and happy. When she was like this, she was reallybeautiful. What pretty legs she had, too, so slim and graceful and softlycurved. When girls had legs like hers no wonder men admired them.Mine had been like that when I was younger, but during the last yearor two they had filled out, become more solid, more suggestive ofmaturity.I straightened my own legs out and contemplated them pensively.”What are you doing, baby? Admiring your legs?” murmured Monty.”No; I was admiring Carlota’s, and comparing mine with them.””Oh, envy! Thy name is Woman! Do you think Carlota’s legs areprettier than yours?””Yes,” I said, candidly. “I do. Mine are getting too matronly.””Bosh,” answered Monty, and he plunged his face between my breastsand set me to giggling by blowing hot, whiskey-scented breaththrough the cloth over my bubbles. “You’re just fishing forcompliments, and out of pure obstinacy, I refuse to bite.””The only time to properly judge a lady’s legs,” expounded Zippysolemnly from his corner, “is when they’re around your neck. I maintainthat Carlota has the nicest legs in the world.Monty and I burst out laughing and Carlota jerked upright inpretended indignation.”Oh! What an insolent inference! I never had my legs around his neckin my life.”189″In my dreams, my dear, in dreams! A man has a right to dreamanything he wants to, hasn’t he?””No! Not such defamatory dreams as that! If you want to dream aboutme, dream something decent! And… o-o-oh!… take your hand awayfrom there! Stop!… stop!… you’re going to make me wet my panties!”The sudden slowing of the car, followed by two long and two shortblasts of the siren warned us that we had reached our destination andCarlota, escaping from the fervid embrace, straightened out herclothing preparatory to leaving the car.As it rolled to a stop, apparently in accordance with prearrangedplans and in answer to the signals of the siren, the figure of a manmaterialized from the fog-enshrouded night to guide us to therendezvous where the entertainment was to take place,We were conducted to a room improvised to represent a theatre in acrude way; a few chairs, a small platform elevated two or three feetabove the floor, and back of this a white curtain. The projectionmachine and operator were hidden from our view in an adjacent roomwhence the pictures would be flashed through a small round hole cutin the intervening wall. There were no other spectators present asZippy had arranged for an entirely private showing.The exhibition lasted for about an hour and a half and consisted ofseveral different films, some of them allegedly taken from real lifeamong the apaches of Paris and which ran the gamut of everyimaginable sexual indulgence and perversion. Another, basedsuperficially on the question of whether or not it is a physicalpossibility for a man to be ****d against his wishes, had as its themethe sequestering of a young man on his wedding day by a group ofjolly, fun-loving friends.190Snatched from the side of his bride of a few minutes, he is carried away,stripped of his clothing, and chained against a wall in an uprightposition with his arms elevated and his legs separated.Under these undignified circumstances he is turned over to themercies of a bevy of girls who, with lewd acts, dances and otherartifices, endeavour to make him have an erection. For a while thismodern St. Anthony is able to subjugate any erotic reactions andsuccessfully resists the wiles of the sirens. But alas, the flesh is weak,and despite his determination to withstand the impure temptations,Satan, in the guise of a beautiful young girl with nimble fingers, forceshis cock to awaken from its lethargic slumber and raise its head inobeisance to the powers of Evil.With this disaster, the battle is practically lost, for once a man’s cock isturgidly erect not even the chaste determination of a Galahad cancontrol its subsequent actions nor stay the course of lascivious Nature.Raising her dress, the temptress turns around and stooping over, withher hands on her knees, backs her round, white bottom up against therigid spike. Closer and closer she presses, until the treacherous obelisk,following the narrow road downward between the plump cheeks,reaches and penetrates the natural haven between her thighs, andnaught remains to complete the victory of sin but the slow, weavingcircular movement of her bottom. “By hand frigging, by sucking, andby other lascivious arts the unfortunate victim is subjected to furtherdepletions of his sexual vitality as the sirens, one after another, drainhim to exhaustion, until at last his cock is reduced to a state ofu*********sness and inertia from which no seductive feminineenticements on earth could arouse it, and when this is apparent, theluckless (?) groom is released and permitted to go on his honeymoon.The entertainment terminated with a horrific exposition of a girl and adiminutive Shetland pony. It was incredible, unbelievable, but theevidence was there, clear, distinct and indisputable in the movingphotographic reproduction upon the screen.191When the show was over we returned to the car and half an hour laterwere at a restaurant where a small private dining room had beenreserved for us. We enjoyed a nice dinner, followed with exquisitewines, over which we lingered, joking, teasing, and otherwise enjoyingourselves. After the dinner, we would part company, Monty and Igoing our way and Zippy and Carlota another.But it was very pleasant and comfortable in the little dining room. Wewere all in the roseate state of semi-intoxication in which everything isjust right and everything that is said excruciatingly funny. So wedallied, telling naughty stories, rumpling each other’s clothing, andindulging in all kinds of lascivious nonsense, while Monty and Zippycontinued to drink until they had passed the half-way stage ofintoxication.”On an occasion of thish nashure,” declaimed Zippy, taking advantageof a lull in the conversation, “ish an invariable, not to shay aninviolable cushtom for each guesh to relate in hiah own crude way thechircumstances and detailsh of hish or her firsh sexual experiensh.””What he meansh,” interrupted Monty, condescendingly, “ish:everybody tell about their firsh fuck!””I believe I… hie… made myself clear without… hie… the necesshity… ofan… interpreter!” protested Zippy with great dignity.”You’re half intoxshicated!””I resent that insinuation! I insist that I’m not half intoxshicated. On thecontrary, I’m half sho… sho… sober!””Shut up, both of you! You’re both intoxicated! If you start anyarguments, Carlota and I are going to beat it!””What wosh thish argument about in the firsh playsh?” interrogatedMonty, scratching his head in perplexity.192″Oh, Zippy had an idea for each of us to tell about our first sexexperience, and you interrupted him.””That wosh a good idea. I mosh humbly beg hish pardon for myintrushion. It would be mosh interestin’ to learn under whatunforshunate chircumstances you two young ladish losh yourmaidenheadsh. I nominate you to tell the firsh story.””Oh, no!” I protested, laughing, “it happened so long ago I can hardlyrecall the circumstances. Let Carlota tell hers first. While she’s tellinghers, I’ll try to remember mine! That is, if you two men will stopdrinking. There’s no fun telling stories to people, who are too drunk tolisten.””I shecond the movement,” interposed Zippy solemnly. “Everybodylishen now, while Carlota tells ush about her firsh romansh.””Ah,” murmured Carlota dreamily. “Until now I have kept the secret ofmy misfortune and the circumstances under which my ruin wasaccomplished locked in the innermost recesses of my heart, nor did Ithink ever to reveal them.She paused and remained pensively silent for a long time.We waited expectantly.”I was the only c***d of wealthy parents who showered upon me everycare and blessing which loving hearts could devise,” she began. “Welived on a beautiful estate in the country where the art and handiworkof man was supplemented by every beautiful and exotic creation ofNature. Close to our home was a charming wooded fairyland in whichwild flowers abounded in bounteous profusion, and through which alittle brook of clear, limpid water rippled on its way to the distant sea.”Prom my earliest days I recall with what delight I wandered throughthis miniature forest, listening enraptured to the lilting songs of the193birds which lived in its green boughs, gathering a scented flower hereand there, watching the big black and gold bees as they skimmed theblossoms in their eternal quest…””Thersh too many birdsh and beesh and flowersh and not enoughfucking in thish story…” growled Zippy discontentedly.”Hush up, Zippy! Let her tell the story in her own way!””Up until the time I was fifteen years old,” continued Carlota,unabashed by the interruption, “I was as pure and innocent as drivensnow. My parents had carefully shielded me from every contaminatinginfluence; I knew nothing; I was ignorant of all the true facts of life…””Terrible mishtake parentsh make,” observed Zippy sadly.”To that lack of knowledge, which I was old enough to rightfullypossess, I ascribe the fact that my pure innocence was trampled in themire of lust and my fresh young girlhood blighted forever,” continuedCarlota, her voice husky with emotion.Monty wiped away a tear and Zippy turned his head to coughsuspiciously.”I shall never forget the day; it is burned into my soul with letters offire. I had just passed my fifteenth birthday; I was a woman in body, butan innocent, unsuspecting c***d in all else. I thought that babies werebrought by fairies who left them upon the doorstep in baskets wovenfrom flowers and vines.”Monty was sniffling audibly. Zippy reached surreptitiously for a bottleand succeeded in pouring himself a stiff drink before I could wrest itfrom him.”Got to have some kind of stimulation,” he protested aggrievedly,”thish story ish breaking my heart.”194″I had discovered a limpid pool among the rocks into which the watereddies so gently that the sandy bottom could be seen through thecrystal-like depths. Several fish inhabited this little pool and it was mydelight to Tie on my stomach and watch them swimming lazily about,with the sunlight, which penetrated the translucent water, causingtheir iridescent scales to shine with all the colours of the rainbow.”It was to this pool I hurried that fateful day, eager to see my little pets,each of which I had endowed with an affectionate name. I had broughtsome bread with me, and as I lay there watching them dart at theslowly sinking crumbs, I was startled to hear a voice close by me. ‘Ah,little Miss Narcissus,’ it said, ‘does your pretty face enchant you so thatyou linger over its reflection in the water?'”I looked up into the smiling countenance of a handsome young manwho was standing there regarding me curiously. I was startled, but notfrightened. I knew nothing to be frightened of.’ ‘No, Sir,’ I replied, ‘I waslooking at some fish that live in this pool. They are really verybeautiful. Their scales shine like rubies and emeralds and sapphires inthe sunlight.’ ‘So?’ he answered, peering into the pool. ‘You have to liedown and put your face close to the water to see them,’ I explained.”Whereupon the young man, who was an entire stranger to me,accommodated himself upon the rocks in a position similar to my own,and together we gazed into the limpid pool while I identified thevarious members of my adopted family.”His interest in the fish waned quickly and he began asking mequestions which I, candidly and ingenuously, answered withouthesitation, thereby revealing to him my c***dish simplicity as well asmy identity.”I thought I had never seen so handsome a young man. He was mucholder than I, five or six years, at least. ‘Do you come here often?’ heasked. ‘Every day,’ I replied, ‘unless it rains.’ And then, my curiosityovercoming my diffidence, I asked: ‘Who are you? You don’t live near195here, do you?’ ‘No,’ he replied slowly, ‘I come from a far-off city. It is asecret, but I will confide in you for I see you can be trusted. You mustnever tell anyone!’ I listened with breathless interest. ‘I am an emissaryof the king. I am sent here, to see that the a****ls and birds and flowersare not m*****ed. When the little birds fall out of their nests I put themback, and when the chipmunks can’t find enough acorns, I feed them.”Oh, how wonderful!’ I breathed ecstatically. ‘May I help yousometimes? Some wicked boys place traps to catch little bunnies, butwhenever I find the traps I throw rocks on them and break them up!”Quite right, my dear little Carlota (he now knew my name), I will bevery happy to have you assist me in my search for hungry chipmunks,and if we find any bunny traps we will assuredly destroy them. Youmay meet me here at this pool tomorrow, but remember, not a word toanyone, not even to your parents. The king would be very angry.'”And thus, with a joyous secret clutched to my trusting heart, and inthe happy anticipation of accompanying this wonderful young man inhis search for little birds which had fallen from their nests, I ran home…””Mosh touchin’ story I ever heard,” mumbled Zippy, “but…””Hush up!” I hissed. “I want to hear the rest of this story withoutanymore interruptions!””Sure enough, he was there waiting for me the next day, and what adelightful time I had, wandering through the woods with him,exploring little glens and shady bosques where the vines and leaveswere so thick I had never attempted to penetrate them alone.. But itwas easy with someone to hold the vines back, to lift you over fallenlogs, and carry you across wet places where little green snakes mightbe hiding.”There was a place where the brook spreads out, standing severalinches deep in the lush water grass. Across this swampy terrain was aleafy hummock which I had seen from a distance but had neverapproached, not knowing how deep the bog might be around it I .196pointed it out to my companion and without a word he picked me up inhis strong arms and started across the intervening swamp.”There was a strange, sweet sensation in being carried this way, onewhich I had never experienced before. It filled me with a soft, meltinglanguor, impossible to describe. As he strode along, he shifted his holdto ease my weight and his hand, under my swinging knees, came incontact with bare flesh where disarranged clothing left it exposed.”A gentle, tingling warmth began to generate, there where his handwas supporting my legs, and an overpowering emotion gradually stoleover me. I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to the unknown butdelicious sensations, languishing, half-fainting, oblivious to everythingelse in the world.”My subsequent recollection of what transpired was dim and vague. Ina half-u*********s state I was dreamily aware that we had reachedthe hummock, and that he had laid me down on the soft grass and wasdoing something with my clothing. Indescribable ecstasies were beingprovoked by some mysterious caresses between my legs, right therewhere they came together, caresses productive of sensations so overpoweringlysweet that I neither questioned their propriety nor evenwondered how they were being effected.”Suddenly the delicious spell was broken by a short, quick stab of pain.An involuntary shriek of anguish escaped my lips, but the pain passedalmost before the sound had died away, and again a flood of warmdelight permeated my being and seemed now to be, projected clear upinside my body. So intense were the sensations which we now beingprovoked that I fainted dead away.”When I recovered consciousness with all that had occurred impressedon my memory only as a vague and indefinite, but delicious dream, Ifound myself in a peculiar situation. I was lying upon the grass with myhead resting on my companion’s folded coat. My dress was up and mypanties had been removed. My companion was engaged in sponging197my thighs with a handkerchief he had apparently moistened in thebrook. As he squeezed the water from it, I perceived that it was stainedwith a dull red.”I sat up and felt a twinge of pain and an odd, swollen sensationbetween my legs. I tried to stand up, but I was dizzy and weak. Whathad happened? Ah, my friends, there is no need to tell you what hadhappened. In that unguarded moment the heritage of purity had beensnatched from an innocent trusting maiden; she had been robbed ofthat priceless jewel which once taken can never be replaced; hervirginal chastity was gone forever.”Carlota choked, overcome with emotion.”Dishpicable, unprinshapled scoundrel,” groaned Zippy, “robbing ayoung girlsh pry-shless jewel…””Misherable king’s emishary ough to be im-prishoned for life!”exclaimed Monty, bursting anew into tears.I was the only one whose heart remained untouched. As the narrativeseemed to have come to an end, I murmured:”That was a beautiful story, Carlota. Now tell us the real one.””The real one isn’t nearly as beautiful as the one I told you,” answeredCarlota, who had now regained her composure.”Wosh the idea?” growled Zippy, sitting up suddenly. “Imposhing onour shimpathies in such a… hie… inexcushable manner?””Thash what I shay!” echoed Monty, with an aggrieved expression onhis face. “Wosh the idea?””Shut up, you two! We’ll make her start all over again, and if shedoesn’t tell the truth this time, we’ll do something to her!”198″Oh, well, if you insist on the truth you can have it, but I warn you, thecircumstance was quite devoid of romantic interest. Fiction is alwaysmore interesting than truth!””Thash what we want, the truth,” exclaimed Zippy with renewedenthusiasm.”Never mind the romantic interesh!” recommended Monty.”Well, let’s see… I guess I was twelve, or very close to it. My AuntCarmen and my little cousin Ferdinand were staying with us for thesummer. One afternoon Mamma and Aunt Carmen went to the city,leaving Ferdinand in my care. It was just such an opportunity as I hadbeen wishing for. A girl playmate had whispered some interestingfacts to me, confirming pretty well-defined suspicions I had alreadyformed regarding certain phenomena of nature..””I hope there ishn’t going to be any birsh and beesh in thish story,”murmured Zippy uneasily.”Before Mamma and Aunt Carmen were out of sight I had made upmy mind that I was going to find out all about it. Ferdinand was nine,just young enough to accept my leadership in everything, and just oldenough to keep a secret when warned that its disclosure would bringparental vengeance.”He could be trusted, and so as soon as Mamma and Aunt Carmenwere at a safe distance, I locked the doors, invited him to come with meto my bedroom, and under the pretext of teaching him a new game, gothim to undress and did likewise. The game wasn’t exactly a new one,but it was the first time either he or I had ever tried to play it, and wewere a little awkward.”By working his little dangle with my fingers, a process I had to repeatseveral times, for it persisted in going soft on me, I managed finally toget it stiff enough to fulfil its proper functions, and after a few erratic199efforts, it suddenly slipped into the hole between my legs with an easewhich rather surprised me.”And this, dear friends, was the simple and unromantic circumstancesunder which I was fucked for the first time, though in truth it should beput the other way around, for it could more properly be said that I wasthe one who did the fucking. I hope you’re satisfied. As a matter of fact,the first story I told you was also true, except in some minor details.””What were those minor details, if I may ask?” I inquired politely.”Well, in the first place, I wasn’t entirely unaware of what was going tohappen when he laid me down on the grass and took my panties off. Infact, I was rather hopefully anticipating it, for I had felt somethinghard rubbing against my thigh all the time he was carrying me. In thesecond place, I wasn’t by any means u*********s while he was doing itto me, though I pretended to be. And in the third place, as I have justrelated, it wasn’t my first fuck, or my second either for that matter, eventhough he did make, me bleed a little because of his size.”Carlota tossed off a pony of brandy while Monty and Zippy remainedpensively silent.”Now,” she observed, clasping her hands behind her head and leaningback in her chair, “let’s hear yours!””Mine,” I answered, “parallels yours… I mean your true one… so closelythat I would only have to reverse the ages of the participants, for I wasthe younger, by several years. Which reminds me of something Iintended to ask you in view of your experience… can you get any juiceout of a nine-year-old cock?””Gosh, I don’t know,” confessed Carlota. “It always seemed to be wetwhen it came out, but whether it was boy-juice or girl-juice I don’tknow because I was twelve years old at the time, the hair wasbeginning to grow on my cunny, and the juice might have been all200mine. But don’t fool yourself, a k** nine years old can have an orgasm,whether he squirts anything or not.”At this moment a waiter, after knocking discreetly, opened the door tomurmur apologetically that it was well past closing time. A hastyglance at the timepiece on the wall showed that it was indeed twoo’clock in the morning.We gathered up our effects and prepared to depart. Both Monty andZippy were tipsy. Carlota walked in the peculiar fashion of one who isnot quite sure of the footing, and I myself found when I stood up that Iwas far from steady on my feet,Monty’s chauffeur, who was huddled up in his seat half-asleep, cameto life, jumped out, opened the door for us, and stood patientlyawaiting instructions.For several minutes we stood there debating further exploits. For mypart I was in favour of going directly to my room with Monty. My bloodwas heated and in my fevered, half-inebriated state I pictured severalhours of delicious sexual abandon. But I was overruled by the others,who were still in an adventuresome mood. They wanted to gosomewhere else to pass another hour or two before separating, andeach had different ideas.”Listen, everybody!” finally announced Monty with drunkendetermination. “We’ll go to my housh! I’ve got a nish, comfortable roomwhere, everybody can relaxsh and enjoy themselves!””Oh, no, we can’t do that!” I protested hastily. “Your wife will have usthrown out!”I could not have voiced a more ill-advised objection. Monty instantlybecame stubbornly resolute.201″Lishen!” he said with injured dignity, “a mansh housh ish hish cashel!When he wansh to entertain dish in hish cashel thash hish… hie… ina…inalienable right!”Nobody could offer a valid contradiction to this time-honouredphilosophy, and though the chauffeur looked startled when hereceived his instructions, we were soon on the way. Though even in mybeclouded state I could not repress certain misgivings I lulled themwith the thought that his wife would undoubtedly be asleep at thishour, and I would think up some pretext to get them to leave asquickly as possible.But, alas, under the effects of the silver flask and other stimulantswhich were drawn forth from hidden recesses in the car, the warningsense of caution diminished and before long I hardly rememberedwhere we were going and by the time we got there I was nearly asdrunk as the rest and but dimly aware of the surroundings.The next thing I knew we were within the beautiful room which Montyhad modestly described as “nish and comfortable.” The feel of rich,thick carpets was underfoot, and about Us every luxurious comfort andadornment which money could command. The soft night-light whichwas burning gave way to a brighter illumination as crystal chandeliersburst into life. In an immense open chimney firewood was laid to light,and in an instant this stately, beautiful room became the scene ofriotous revelry.Carlota and I flung ourselves upon gorgeous divans while Monty andZippy divested themselves of their hats and top-coats and placedupon an inland table the several bottles, some full, some partiallydepleted, which they had carried up from the car.A sleepy butler appeared unsolicited, and stood with gaping mouth inthe doorway.202″Go ‘way! Go on back to bed!” ordered Monty. “Thish ish a privateparty, we don’t want any intrushions!”The man retired hastily.There was an interlude during which events remained only in my mindin a nebulous blur. Here and there were incidents which stood out inrelief, surviving the chaos of the night. Of course, it was inevitableunder the circumstances that Carlota and I should be wheedled intodisrobing, for no drunken orgy is complete until the women haveexhibited themselves naked, and when the cataclysmic hour struck,she was down to her slippers, hose and a short undervest, while I, morecircumspect, had removed only my panties.Across the room where the shaded glow of a rose-tinted light fellsoftly on her naked thighs and pointed, cone-shaped breasts, her headon Zippy’s lap, Carlota lay, alternately shrieking hysterically andmoaning as he realized some occult operation between her legs withhis finger.Upon the velvet cushions of another divan an equally exotic scene wasrevealed. Cuddled in Monty’s arms I rested my head languidly on hisshoulder while he fingered and played with one of my bubbies whichhe had succeeded in exposing by the simple expedient of tearing openthe front of my dress.My own fingers were clutched around something stiff and round andhot which projected upward from his unbuttoned trousers. I slid thesatiny skin slowly up and down, and each time the rosy head emergedfrom its shelter of flesh the rigid column jerked like a live thing. Isqueezed it tighter, gripping it with all the strength of my fist, and stillthe spasmodic throb was strong enough to break my grasp as theplum-coloured head was forced through the tight ring formed by mythumb and index finger.203Each mighty convulsion awakened a corresponding throb in my ownsexual organs, and an inordinate longing began to assail me. I wantedto feel that luscious, throbbing thing in my mouth, to run my tongueover its wet surface, to lick it and suck it until it burst.What difference did it make that Carlota and Zippy were there? Theywere too immersed in their own pastimes to pay much attention towhat I was doing. Very likely, too, they already knew I was acocksucker, for Monty was very indiscreet with his talk when underthe influence of liquor.In another moment, doubtless, the luscious fruit for which I was pantingwould have been between my lips had it not been for an interruption.That interruption was the quiet opening of the door which gave accessto the beautiful but now disordered and bottle-strewn lounge. I wasthe only one directly facing the door and I was the first to perceive anew arrival.I froze in rigid attention.In the doorway, surveying us gravely and silently, stood a woman.Inasmuch as this woman was the direct opposite of the mental picture Ihad formed of Monty’s wife I did not for a moment or two even considerthe possibility that it was she. I simply wondered who she was.The woman who stood there regarding us with a calm, almostexpressionless face was young, not much older than I, probably. Anembroidered robe of rich, wine-coloured material was drawn abouther and fastened with a loosely knotted, tasselled rope of silk. Underits lower hem, the lacy edge of a white garment, a nightgown, withoutdoubt, peeked. She wore no hose, but on her feet were dainty, highheeled bedroom sandals.204She was superbly, radiantly beautiful, a blonde of perfect type whoseskin was suggestive of peaches and cream, and whose loosely coiledhair glinted in the light like spun gold.So silent had been her entry and so quietly did she stand that forseveral moments no one but myself was aware of her presence. Monty,his attention finally attracted by my tense attitude, turned his eyes inthe direction I was looking. Zippy in turn glanced casually toward thedoor, and started abruptly. Carlota, facing the opposite direction wasstill moaning and suspiring audibly. Zippy shook her significantly andmurmured a warning “S-h-h-h!” She looked at him in surprise, andthen turned her head to see what was holding his attention. When shesaw, she sat up hastily, drawing her one diaphanous garment downover her hips as far as she could.It must have been three-thirty or later. Monty was the first to break thesilence.”Wosh the idea of thish intrushion?” he demanded thickly.For a long moment there was no answer from the immobile figure. Shecontinued to regard us, coolly, unemotionally. Then:”Take your disreputable associates out of this house immediately.”The words were spoken in a quiet, dignified voice, low and musical, butfirmly resolute.By this time realization of the intruder’s identity had dawned upon meand surprise gave way to a rapidly growing feeling of resentment andanger. In a confused, startled way, I comprehended that I had beencheated and imposed upon. So firmly rooted was the conception I hadformed of this woman, a conception in which she appeared as a flatchested, sour-faced misanthrope, devoid of seductive feminine charms,that to find her in every respect the exact antithesis of all I had beenled to believe, or permitted to believe, was at first a shock, and as this205was assimilated, cause for rage which grew quickly to consumingproportions.In some way, not yet clearly defined in my mind, I had been misled andhoodwinked. I had been permitted to assume, that I had a rivalunworthy of serious consideration, much less to be jealous of. Once,impelled by some vague uneasiness, I had asked Monty whether shewas pretty. His answer leaped into my memory. “About as pretty,compared to you, as a moth is in comparison to a beautiful, exoticbutterfly!” The recollection brought a new surge of anger, for itsuggested that I had not only been deceived but likewise made thevictim of my own ridiculous vanity. This woman was regal with aloveliness which made mine look like cheap tinsel, and I had the senseto realize it.In the baffled, frustrated, angry grouping of my thoughts, I includedher as well as Monty in my resentment. I had pitied her before, but Ihated her now with all the bitter venom which jealousy can brew inthe heart of a woman confronted by the superior and invinciblecharms of a rival. I could have sunk my fingernails in the soft bloom ofher cheeks with vicious delight, I could have clawed the full,voluptuous breasts which swelled the dressing gown outward in twinglobes with infinite satisfaction. I fairly suspired to hurl myself on herand disfigure every inch of her golden beauty.Dimly, I was aware that Monty had lurched to his feet and wasadvancing toward her.”Lishen! Thesh ladiesh are my guesh! Wosh the idea of inshulting myguesh? Wosh the idea calling my guesh dish… dish… reputable?”She stood her ground, receding not an inch before the menacinggesture of an upraised hand. No emotion was visible in her face exceptthat of cool disdain.206″Remove these people from here instantly,” she repeated. “I will nottolerate their presence here.””Shay! Wosh housh ish thish? I refush to be embarrasshed in thepresensh of my friensh!”He made an unsteady lurch, and the sharp sound of a hand in contactwith flesh was heard. He had slapped her in the face with considerableforce.A wave of cruel pleasure swept over me with the sound of the impactand the hot blood tingled in my cheeks. Across one of hers a dappled,reddish outline appeared to mar the white purity of her skin. But shedid not flinch. With outward calm and dignity she remainedmotionless. There was a moment of deadly silence, and the low voicespoke again.”Take your degenerate friends with you and leave this house or I willgo myself.”What followed can only be told in a summary fashion. My ownemotions were so violent that I saw everything through a sort of redhaze and the details were blended in a confused blur of movement andaction.Monty had seized her in his arms. They were tussling and swaying inthe doorway, she trying to escape his grasp and he apparently intenton dragging her into the room. No words were spoken; there was nosound except the heavy breathing, the swish of garments, and thescuffle of moving feet deadened in part by the thick carpets.The pallor of her face had given way to a vivid flush which burned ineither cheek. One of her bronze slippers had been dislodged in thescuffle and she was panting audibly. With a violent effort shesucceeded in wrestling an arm free from his clasp, and placing thepalm of her hand against his chin she forced his head back. For a207moment it seemed that she was about to free herself from his drunkenembrace.As she strained to loosen his grasp, the sound of ripping cloth washeard and the neck and upper part of her robe and nightgown weretorn open. The folds sagged down over her shoulders and arms, and onewhite breast was exposed.I can see it yet, that proud, round breast of alabaster whitenessprotruding from the ravished garments, its rosy nipple standing outprominently.The sudden yielding of the garment caused her to lose her balance andthe temporary advantage she had gained. She tottered backward andbefore she could recover herself she was again helpless in his arms. Butshe did not cease to struggle as she was dragged toward the centre ofthe room.The blood was singing in my head. I felt choked, suffocated, and wasbreathing in short, dry gasps. Zippy and Carlota sat stiffly erect,watching with bulging eyes, but I gave them hardly a thought.Remembrance of his cynical admission of attempts to fuck her wassimmering in my brain. Well, he would never lay hands on me again.Let him fuck her if he could, and let her claw him to shreds while hewas doing it if she wanted to. That was what he had on his mind now. Iknew he was going to try to fuck her right there in our presence.The sound of more ripping cloth bore out the supposition and testifiedto his lust for the woman who had spurned him as he tried drunkenly todisrobe her. The kaleidoscopic, shifting blur of movement nowrevealed her half-nude as the entire front of her dressing gown wasripped open and the torn fragments of the nightgown underneathtangled about her legs.I clenched my fists and bit my lips. My face was burning hot and myhead felt light and dizzy.208As the torn fragments fluttered about her shapely limbs, he lifted herup. She managed to slip from his arms and regained her feet, but as shedid so what remained of the garments was stripped upward and for amoment, not only her legs, but her bottom as well was left naked. Asshe twisted about the light shone full on the patch of little bronze,ringlets of hair at the base of her stomach. Another violent movementand pieces of her torn garments again covered the erotic sight.She was panting, choked, inarticulate, but as if aware of her halfnakedcondition she gathered herself for a supreme effort and placingboth hands against his chest she shoved with desperate strength.Doubtless, divining what was in his mind, she put every ounce of herfailing energies into a superhuman effort to escape the humiliation.She succeeded in pushing him from her. He clutched at her in an effortto regain his balance, tottered uncertainly for a moment, and fellbackward. His head struck the edge of the iron grating in front of thefireplace.. His body twisted once or twice, straightened out, andremained motionless.There was a momentary silence, broken only by a faint, peculiarwhistling sound from the lips of the fallen man, a sound which I, andprobably both my companions, assumed to be more an indication ofdrunken stupor than anything more serious.But the woman standing there panting beside him, looking down intohis face, suddenly began to scream. In an instant the servants, who hadprobably been hovering around close at hand but loathe to interfere,rushed precipitately into the room.”Call a physician! Call a physician! Call the police! Get these peopleout of here!” she screamed, repeating the words over and over.While two servants lifted Monty from the floor to lay him upon a sofa,another scurried to telephone a doctor, and another addressed himselfto us.209″I’d advise you to retire as quickly as possible. The Marster appears tobe in a very bad condition. He’s not responsible under thecircumstances, and you’d better be off, seein’ as the Mistress is quite’isterical!”It was a sober and quiet little procession that filed down the stairs andout into the night air. Monty’s faithful chauffeur, aroused by thesudden movement and lights about the house, inquired anxiously:”What’s happened?””Oh, Monty staged a row with his wife. He fell down and hit his headon the fireplace grating,” Zippy answered gloomily.”Is he hurt?””I don’t think so. Get us away from here as quickly as you can.”The uneasy chauffeur hesitated a moment but finally decided that thebest course was to do as suggested. He put the motor into movementand the car slid off down the quiet street.As my thoughts cleared I became aware that Carlota was putting onher clothes, and for the first time realized that she had left the houseclad in nothing but a silken shift, though she had retained sufficientpresence of mind to grab her clothes and bring them with her, whichreminded me that my own panties were still decorating a chair backthere in the house.I was not tempted to return for them. The wild emotions of the pasthalf-hour were passing and I felt weak and faint. A fit of tremblingseized me and I began to cry.Carlota turned suddenly on me and I was electrified to hear her hiss:”Damn you! If it hadn’t been for you this would never have happened!”210″What on earth do you mean?” I gasped, hardly able to believe myears. “What did I have to do with it?”The only answer was a string of curses and maledictions that left mepetrified with astonishment.Zippy tried in vain to quiet her. She began to shriek.”Let me out!” she cried hysterically, “let me out!”Thinking that the excitement and liquor had thrown her into somekind of a fit, I put my arms around her and tried to sooth her. Sheshoved me away with a violent gesture, and screamed:”Keep your hands off me, you damned little cocksucker, keep yourhands off of me!”The chauffeur, who of course could hear the clamour, slowed up thecar, and opening the glass window at his back, peered in.”Here! Here! What’s going on?” he exclaimed anxiously.”I want to get out! Let me out!” cried Carlota.”Certainly, you can get out if you want to!” answered the man withalacrity, and he jumped from his seat to open the door for her.Carlota literally hurled herself from the car, and sobbing brokenly, ranoff and disappeared in the darkness.”What… what in the world came over her?” I whispered dazedly,turning to Zippy, “What will happen to her, running around in thedark in a drunken fit?””Don’t worry about her, Jessie. She can take care of herself.”211″But… but why did she say such awful things to me? Why doesn’t shelike me? I’ve never offended her or done her any harm!””Don’t you know, really?” he asked.”No I don’t! Do you?” “Why, she’s jealous of you. That’s what’s thematter with her.””Jealous of me?” Why should she be jealous of me?””Well, you see, Jessie, she was Monty s girl before he met you.””Why! I thought she was your girl!””No,” he answered with a resigned gesture. “Monty shoved her off ontome to keep her pacified. I did the best I could, but I wasn’t up to it.””Oh!” I gasped weakly, “Oh!”Zippy placed an arm over my shoulder and patted mesympathetically. “Monty is a good scout but he takes some wildchances. We all must have been crazy to let him take us to his housetonight.””I didn’t want to go; I tried to talk him out of it, but I’m glad now I went. Ifound out several things I didn’t know before. I never want to see himagain.”Unable to control my feelings, I began to cry again.”Cheer up, k**. Don’t let yourself get upset. You have to take things asthey come in this life, the bitter with the sweet.His arm tightened about me and unresisting I let him draw my headover against his shoulder where I continued to sob until I was able torestrain myself. This Zippy was a nice chap. I had always liked him buthad never permitted myself to be more than discreetly friendly with212him on Carlota’s account. There was comfort and consolation in thesympathetic pressure of his arm, and soon I felt better.”Will you come to see, me sometime?” I murmured. “I’m not going tohave anything more to do with Monty.””Of course I will, if you want me. I couldn’t ask you before because,well, it just isn’t cricket to poach on another man’s preserves.””That’s how I felt about Carlota. What a dummy I was! I knew from theway she acted there was something wrong, but I didn’t have senseenough to suspect what it was. No wonder she didn’t like me!”The big automobile was rolling along smoothly and quietly and withinanother twenty-five, minutes or so I would be back in my room.Dawn was not far off, but it was still dark outside.213CHAPTER 17So quickly does the heart respond to kindly words in moments ofdistress that already a tender feeling for Zippy was taking root. He wasreally nice and he was good-looking too. I put my feet up under me onthe car seat, and cuddled down against him with my head resting onhis lap. The soft vibration of the car was soothing to the nerves and soonI felt quite comfortable.Under the pressure of my shoulders on his lap I became aware of adisturbing element which started a new train of thoughts. I moved mybody so that I could lay my hand on the disturbance, even squeeze itsoftly. It immediately became more pronounced and grew into a smallriot. For several minutes nothing was said.The next thing I knew his trousers were unbuttoned, the cause of theagitation was out in the open and my head was being impelled downover it by hands which exerted a firm pressure.I was surprised at such directness, but not displeased.”The chauffeur?” I whispered questioningly.For answer Zippy reached over me, manipulated a switch, anddarkness equal to that outside descended upon the interior of the car.Some fifteen or twenty minutes later two discreet notes of the sirenadvised us that my destination was near. When the car stopped and Istepped out, the sky was tinted in the east. The night was lifting. Dawnwas at hand.I ran up the steps, rang the bell, and after a long wait the door wasopened by the night maid. Within less than ten minutes all told, I wasin bed and sound asleep.I slept for at least five hours, but I would have sworn that it was not overfive minutes before I was dragged from my lethargic slumber by a214violent shaking and insistent voices which continued relentlessly untilI finally sat up to protest the commotion.”Wake up, Jessie! Wake up!”It was Hester who was repeating the disagreeable phrase and shakingme insistently, but as my vision cleared I saw Madame Lafrondestanding nearby, and several girls besides.There was something in their faces which dispelled the last vestige ofsleep, and I now saw that Madame Lafronde was holding a newspaper.”Wake up, Jessie! Wake up!” pleaded Hester. “Are you awake?””Yes! I’m awake! What’s the matter?””Oh Jessie, were you with Montague Austin last night? Somethingdreadful has happened!”The blood drained from my face.”What is it?” I whispered.”He’s dead, Jessie, he’s dead! There was some kind of trouble in hishome last night or early this morning; there were some girls there, thepolice are trying to find them! We thought… we were afraid… maybeyou were mixed up in it! You were out with him last night, weren’t you?The paper says there were two girls!””Let me see the paper!” I gasped, without answering her questions.Silently, Madame Lafronde placed it in my hands.Big black headlines screamed at me from across the top of a column onthe front page:215MONTAGUE AUSTIN DIES UNDER MYSTERIOUSCIRCUMSTANCES.I clutched the paper with trembling fingers and tried to read thesmaller print, but my mind refused to concentrate upon the longdrawn-out recital and only blazing fragments detached themselveshere and there to impinge on my consciousness.”Youngest son of late Sir Weatherford Austin died at an early hourthis morning as the, result of injuries sustained in his own home. Wife inhysterical collapse unable to give coherent account of tragedy… notknown whether fall was accidental or whether he was knocked down…died without regaining consciousness… conflicting stories told bydomestics suggestive of bacchanalian revelries motivate investigationby Scotland Yard… empty bottles and whiskey flasks… intimategarments left behind… half-naked girls flee with male companion…identity of man unknown… chauffeur to be interrogated today… victimhas figured in many sensational escapades…””Now, Jessie,” said Madame Lafronde not unkindly, seating herself onthe edge of the bed, “for the good of all concerned, let’s get the truth sowe’ll know what to do. Just answer my questions. Were you there?””Yes, I was! But I didn’t… none of us… even dreamed he was badly hurt!””What happened exactly?””He was fighting with his wife. He was drunk and he slipped and felland his head struck against the fireplace grating.””What were you doing in his house while his wife was there?””Well, I… we were, all of us half-drunk and he insisted on taking usthere! I didn’t want to go!””Who are these other people?”216″A girl named Carlota, and a fellow, a friend of Monty’s, everybodycalls him Zippy… I don’t know his right name.””Who is this Carlota?””I don’t know her full name, either. I’d met her two or three times beforewhen I was out with Monty and Zippy. I didn’t know it until last night,but she used to be Monty’s sweetheart.””Do either of these people know your name and where you live?””Zippy does. Carlotta… I don’t know. Monty might have told her.””How did you get here this morning?” “Zippy brought me… in Monty’scar.” “In Monty’s car? With his chauffeur?” “Yes; you see thechauffeur… none of us… knew there was anything seriously wrong whenwe left.””Then the chauffeur knows this address too?””I guess he does now, all right.” “All right, k**. If you step fast maybeyou can be out of here before the doorbell starts ringing, and maybeyou can’t. There’s no hard feelings, but you know how it is, I can’t affordto have any of my girls mixed up in anything like this.””I understand. I don’t blame you,” I answered dully, and got out of bedto dress.”I’ll have your money ready for you as soon as you’re dressed and we’llslip you out the back way… just in case. I’ll give you some addresswhere you can get on easy if you want to get a new place, but use adifferent name and don’t mention having worked here. If you do,there’s a good chance you’ll be picked up. The police are going to findout all they can about this affair, and if they get you, there’s no tellingwhat you’ll have to go through.”217Hester went with me to carry some of my things and to help find aroom where I would be safe from annoyance. We found one whichappeared to be suitable, and though the landlady looked askancewhen she heard I was to occupy it alone, her misgivings were calmedby the sight of sufficient money to pay a month’s rent in advance, andmy assurance that I would be receiving no “visitors” other than Hester.The room was cozy and comfortable, but after Hester had gone, such afeeling of loneliness and wretchedness welled up in my heart that Ithrew myself on the little bed and had a long cry.The next afternoon Hester returned to tell me excitedly that withinless than fifteen minutes after our departure the police, who hadextracted the address from Monty’s chauffeur just as MadameLafronde had anticipated, were there looking for me, and in additiontwo barristers had called repeatedly in a vain effort to see me. Ishuddered and from then on the little room seemed more like a havenof refuge than a lonely exile, for I entertained a profound horror ofpolice and jails, the long months of deadly monotony in the reformschool never having been forgotten.”They found that girl Carlota, too. She used to be a dancer in a musichall. And who do you suppose your mysterious friend Zippy turned outto be?””I don’t know,” I answered. “Who?””No less a personage than that polo-playing Lord Beaverbrook! I’veseen his picture in the papers lots of times. I think the whole thing willbe hushed up soon. They know it was an accident and that nobody wasmuch to blame but Austin himself.”True to Hester’s prediction, references to the scandal disappearedquickly from the press and no great efforts were made to locate themissing witness. For a time I entertained the hope that MadameLafronde would relent and call me back. But the hope was dissipated218when Hester sadly informed me that it was futile. She herself had triedto pave the way for my return only to be told by Madame Lafrondethat though she liked me, I was a “firebrand” and in the best interests ofthe business its door must remain closed to me.Hester came faithfully to visit me for an hour or two every afternoon.”Did the papers ever hint what Austin and his wife were quarrellingabout?” I asked her.”Yes; she objected to his having you and those other people drinkingand carousing in the house. Wasn’t that it?””Partly, but there was something else… something lots worse than that.””What was it, Jessie?””He had her half-stripped. He was going to fuck her right there in frontof all of us.””Oh, Jessie! What did I tell you about that man? Why wouldn’t youlisten to me?”She was on the point of tears again and I hastily endeavoured to turnthe conversation into a lighter vein.”Don’t worry so about me, you sweet old thing! I’ll listen to your advicein the future. But it’s fierce to be here all alone. Maybe I’ll pay you tocome and sleep with me some night, I’ve got lots of money. I’lltelephone Lafronde and disguise my voice and ask for a girl, and youcan volunteer.””No! I won’t sleep with you, you perverted little woman-fucker!””Not even if I pay you?””No! Not even if you pay me!”219″That’s nice! You’d go to a hotel with some woman you don’t even knowand do things with her, but you won’t sleep with me!””Jessie, how can you even think of such things after what’s happened?””Let’s get undressed and lie down for a little while. You haven’tanything to do this afternoon.””Are you in your right senses?””Listen; if you’ll stay, I’ll do it like Heloise did… only nicer!””Oh! You’re one of those, too, are you? Well, thanks, I don’t want anytoday. When I do, I’ll let you know. How much do you charge?””I’ll bet I could make it last you a whole hour!””No!””Please, darling, sweet Hester! Think of me, locked up here alone in thisroom by myself day after day!””No! And if I did, you’d be sure to leave the door unfastened so anyonecould open it and walk right in!””Look!” I exclaimed, and jumping up I twisted the key in the lock andheld it up before her. “I’ll even hang up a towel over the keyhole sonobody can peek at us!””Well, come on, then! I just want to see if you’re really capable of doingthat, too!”I had paid a month’s rent, but by the time two weeks had passed I foundthe loneliness and inactivity intolerable. Hester had brought a listwith several addresses which Madame Lafronde had prepared, and220feeling now that there was little likelihood of being bothered by thepolice, I set out one afternoon to see if I could find a place.With one swift glance of appraisal the madam of the first house on thelist invited me to a room, had me undress for a survey of my physicalassets, and immediately began to ply me with flattering and enticinginducements to join her ménage. I was rather taken aback by suchunexpected eagerness and the assurance of profitable earnings, butanxious to settle the matter of immediate occupation I accepted heroffer without delving into promises which seemed somewhatexaggerated.The bargain was struck. I was shown the room which would be at mydisposition and introduced to several of the young ladies who wouldbe my future companions. They were a slightly faded lot, considerablybelow Madame Lafronde’s standards, and the depressing thoughtcame over me that my entry into this second-rate bagnio signalledanother step downward towards the abyss. But I shrugged the thoughtaside; I could always leave if I didn’t like, it, and told the woman Iwould bring my effects in the morning.Before opening the door for me to leave, she detained me a moment inthe hall.”Listen dearie,” she murmured in low, wheedling tones, “I forgot tomention… I don’t suppose it will make any difference… but I’ve got aspecial class of trade here… this isn’t a French house exactly, but youknow how it is… most of my best paying regulars like it a little out ofthe ordinary… you understand. All the other girls here do it You won’tmind that, will you dearie?”Ah! As I digested this bizarre announcement, which fully explainedthe cajolements and flattery and alluring promises, the womanwatched my face anxiously, as though to read therein some sign whichwould tell her whether the bird was going to fly off affrighted orremain in the trap.221For a long moment I stood pensively silent. I knew from the dejectedaspect of the place, the sallow-faced girls, the tarnished furniture, thatthe type of men who frequented it would be far, far different fromthose I was accustomed to dealing with. Up to the present, my cocksuckinginclinations had been exercised voluntarily, to satisfy my ownsexual cravings. Here, I would be obliged to do it, whether I felt soinclined or not. I hesitated uncertainly, and then, with a gesture ofindifference, replied:”I’ll give them what they want.”And thus, with six short words, did I seal my pact with hell, and bindmyself henceforward to madden the brains of men and corrode theirsouls with the bittersweet poison of my sucking lips.222

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