“Well, you’re clearly in need of some practice before you’ll be in good form,” said the gentleman; “it’s not, by chance, that you are afraid my dogs might bite you? Don’t worry yourself about them, my dear, they’ll do you no harm, but inwardly, you know, they’ll look down upon you if they see that you’re a clumsy creature. So let’s try again—try harder. Here’s your chance to get even . . . bring it back!”
Another chestnut thrown, another victory carried off by the dogs, another defeat for me; well, to make a long story short, the game lasted two hours, during which I managed to get the chestnut only once and to bring it back in my mouth to him who had thrown it. But whether triumphant or bested, never did the dogs do me any harm; on the contrary, they seemed to be having a good time playing and to be amused by me, quite as though I were a dog too.
“That’s enough,” said the gentleman. “You’ve worked hard enough; it’s time to eat.”
He rang, a servant entered.
“Bring some food for my animals,” he said.
And a moment later the servant returned, carrying an ebony feeding trough which was filled with a kind of very delicate chopped meat. He set the trough on the floor.
“Very well,” my gentleman said to me, “get down and eat with my dogs, and try to put on a better show while eating than you did while playing.”
There was nothing for me to reply; I had to obey. Still on all fours, I plunged my head into the trough; the trough was very clean, the food very good, I fell to munching away beside the dogs, which very politely moved over, leaving me peacefully to my share. And that was the critical instant for our libertine; the humiliation of a woman, the degradation to which he reduced her, wonderfully stimulated his spirits.
“Oh, the buggeress!” said he, frigging himself assiduously, “the tramp, look at her there, gorging herself with the dogs, that’s how one should deal with all women, and if they were to be handled thus, we’d have no more sauciness from them, ah, no! Domestic animals like those dogs, why should they not be treated in the same way? Ah! impudent bitch that you are, whore, slime, scum!” he cried, stepping near and spraying his fuck over my bum, “buggeress, I’ll have you eat with my dogs.”
And that was the end of that; our man vanished, I dressed promptly, and lying by my mantelet I found two louis, the current price and doubtless the one the rogue was accustomed to paying for his pleasures.
At this point, Messieurs, Duclos continued, I am obliged to retrace my steps and, by way of conclusion to the evening’s narrations, to recount two adventures I had during my youth. As they are somewhat on the strong side, they would have been out of place amidst the mild escapades with which you had me start at the beginning of the month; and so I set them aside and kept them for the end of my contribution.
I was only sixteen at the time, and was still with Madame Guérin; I had been sent to the home of a man of unchallenged distinction, and, upon arriving there, was simply told to wait in a small antechamber, told to be at my ease, told to be sure to obey the lord who would soon be coming to sport with me; but they were careful not to tell me anything else: I’d not have had such a fright if I’d been forewarned, and our libertine would certainly not have had as much pleasure. I had been in the room for about an hour when the door opened at last. It was the master of the house himself.
“What the devil are you doing here,” he demanded with an air of surprise, “at this time of day? . . . What about it, whore!” he cries, seizing me by the throat and all but choking the breath out of me, “what about it! Has the slut come here to rob me?”
He calls to someone, a trustworthy servant immediately appears.
“La Fleur,” says his angry master, “I’ve got a thief here; she was hiding when I came in. Strip her and prepare to carry out the orders I give you.”
La Fleur does as he is told, I am despoiled of my clothes in a trice, they are tossed aside as they are peeled off my body.
“Very well,” the libertine says to his servant, “go find a sack, then sew this creature up inside it and toss her into the river.”
The valet goes to find the sack. I leave it to you to wonder whether I did not take advantage of these few moments to cast myself at the nobleman’s feet and beg him to spare me, assuring him that it was Madame Guérin, his usual procuress, who had herself sent me to his house. But the lewd gentleman will have none of it, he grasps my two buttocks, and kneading them brutally between his fists:
“Why, fuck my eyes,” says he, “I think I’ll feed this pretty ass to the fish.”
That was the single lubricious action he seemed inclined to permit himself, and until then he had exposed nothing which might have led me to suppose libertinage had something to do with the scene. The valet returns, bringing a sack with him; despite all my protests, and they were heated, I am dumped into it, the mouth of the sack is sewn up, and La Fleur lifts me upon his shoulders. It was then I heard the effects of our libertine’s mounting crisis; he had probably begun to frig himself as soon as I had been put in the sack. At the same instant La Fleur raised me to his shoulders, the villain’s fuck departed him.
“Into the river, into the river, do you hear me, La Fleur?” he said, stammering with pleasure. “Yes, into the river with her, and you’ll slip a stone into the sack, so that the whore will drown all the more quickly.”
And that was all he had to say, I was borne out, we went into the adjacent room where La Fleur, having ripped open the sack, returned me my clothes, gave me two louis, and also gave me some unequivocal proof of the manner, radically unlike his master’s, in which he conducted himself in the pursuit of happiness; then I returned to Guérin’s. I severely scolded Guérin for having sent me there so poorly prepared; to placate me, she arranged another party: it took place two days later, and I was even less well prepared for the battle I was to wage with this new foe.
More or less as in the adventure I have just related, I was to go and wait in an antechamber of the apartment belonging to a farmer-general, but this time I waited in the company of the valet who, sent thither by his master, had come to fetch me at Guérin’s. To while away the time before my gentleman’s arrival, the valet diverted me by bringing out and displaying several precious stones kept in a desk drawer in the room.
“Bless me,” said the good pander, “were you to take one or two of them I don’t fancy it would make much difference; the old Croesus is so damned rich I wager he doesn’t even know how many of ’em or what kind he’s got here in his desk. Go right ahead, if you like, don’t bother yourself about me, I’m not the sort of fellow to betray a little friend.”
Alas! I was only too well disposed to follow this perfidious advice; you know my predilections, I’ve told you about them; and so, without his having to say another word, I put my hand upon a little gold box worth seven or eight louis, not daring to make off with any more valuable object. That was all that rascal of a valet desired, and to avoid having to return to the matter later on, I afterward learned that, had I refused to take something, he would, without my being aware of it, have slipped a jewel or two into my pocket. The master arrives, greets me with kindness and courtesy, the valet leaves the room, we two remain there together. This man, unlike the other, amused himself in a very real sense; he scattered a profusion of kisses over my ass, had me flog him, fart in his mouth, he put his prick in mine, and in one word had his fill of every kind and shape of lubricity save for that sometimes sought in the cunt; but ’twas all to no purpose, he did not discharge. The propitious moment for that had not yet come, all this he had been doing was secondary, preparatory; you will soon see to what it was leading.
“Why, my stars!” he suddenly exclaimed, “it had entirely slipped my mind. There’s a domestic still waiting in the other room for a gem I just a moment ago promised to give him for his master. Excuse me, my dear, but I really must keep my word to him; then we’ll get back to work.”
Guilty of the little larceny I’d just committed at the instigation of that acc
ursed valet, you may well suppose that this remark made me tremble. I thought for an instant to stop him, confess to the theft, then I decided it would be better to play innocent and run the risk. He opens the desk, looks through first one drawer then the next, rummages about, and failing to find what he is after, he darts furious glances at me.
“You, slut, you alone,” says he, “apart from a valet in whom I have entire confidence, you have been the only person to enter this room during the past three hours; the article is missing; you must have taken it.”
“Oh, Monsieur,” I say, shaking in every limb, “you may be sure I am incapable . . .”
“Damn your eyes,” he roars (now, you will remark that his breeches were still unbuttoned, that his prick was protruding from them, that this prick held a very vertical slope; all this, you would suppose, ought to have enlightened me and dispelled my fears, but I had all but lost my head, and noticed nothing), “come along, buggeress, my valuable has got to be found.”
He ordered me to strip; twenty times I besought him on bended knee to spare me the humiliation of such a search, he would be moved by nothing, nothing melted him, he himself angrily tore off my clothes, and as soon as I was naked, he went through my pockets and, of course, it was not long before he came across the box.
“Ah, you bitch!” he cried, “I need no more than that to be convinced. So, buggeress, you come to a man’s house to steal from him?”
And immediately summoning his lieutenant:
“Go bring an officer of the police at once,” he said.
“Oh, Monsieur!” I cried, “have pity upon my youthful truancy, I have been beguiled into this, ’twas not done of my own will, I was told to . . .”
“Well,” the lecherous gentleman interrupted, “you will explain all that to the officer, for I’ll be damned if I don’t mean to put a stop to all this crime.”
The valet leaves again; the libertine, still wearing a blinding erection, flings himself into an armchair and while he fumbles about his crotch, he showers a thousand invectives upon me.
“This tramp, this monster,” said he, “she comes to my house to rob me, I who wanted to give her the reward her services deserve . . . ah, by God, we shall see.”
As he utters these words a knock is heard at the door, and I see a gendarme enter.
“Officer,” says the master of the premises, “I have a thieving wench here I wish to put in your safekeeping, and I turn her over to you naked, for I put her in that state in order to search her clothing; there is the girl, over there are her garments, and here is the stolen article; I urge you to have her hanged, officer, and good night to you.”
Whereupon he reeled backward, sat down in his chair, and discharged.
“Yes, hang the bitch, by sweet Jesus, I want to see her hanged, officer, do you understand me? Hang her, that’s all I ask of you!” he fairly screamed.
The pretended gendarme leads me away with my clothes and the damning box, takes me into a nearby room, removes his uniform, and reveals himself to be the same valet who received me and incited me to steal; so upset had I been, I’d not recognized him hitherto.
“Well, well!” said he, “were you frightened?”
“Alas,” I murmur, hardly able to speak, “out of my very wits.”
“It’s all over,” he said, “and here is your money.”
So saying, he presents me with the same box I had stolen, ’tis a gift from his master, he restores my clothes, to me, hands me a glass of brandy, and escorts me back to Madame Guérin’s.
“That’s an odd and pleasant mania,” the Bishop observed; “the major part of it can be extracted for use in other connections. My one criticism is that it contains an excess of delicacy; you know, of course, that I don’t greatly favor mixing fine feelings with libertinage. Leave that element out of it, I say, and from that story one may learn the infallible method of preventing a whore from complaining, regardless of the iniquitous ways one might be disposed to take with her. One has only to proffer the bait, draw her into the trap, and when you’ve caught her red-handed, why then you are at liberty to do what you wish with her, there’s nothing more to fear, she won’t dare emit a peep for fear either of being accused or the object of your recriminations.”
“It is indeed,” said Curval, “and I am sure that had I been in that gentleman’s place, I would have permitted myself to go somewhat further, and you, my dear Duclos, might not have got off so lightly.”
The stories having been long that evening, the supper hour arrived before Messieurs had the opportunity to indulge in any frolicking. They thus repaired to table firmly resolved to make the most of the period following the meal. It was then that, having assembled the entire household, they decided to determine which of the little girls and boys could be justifiably ranked as mature men and women. To establish the critical facts, Messieurs thought best to frig everyone of the one sex and of the other about whom they had any doubts, or rather suspicions; amongst the women, they were sure of Augustine, Fanny, and Zelmire: these three charming little creatures, aged between fourteen and fifteen, all discharged in response to the lightest touch; Hébé and Michette, each being only twelve, were hardly worth considering, and so it was simply a question of experimenting with Sophie, Colombe, and Rosette, the first of whom was fourteen, the latter two being thirteen years old.
Amongst the boys, it was a matter of common knowledge that Zéphyr, Adonis, and Céladon shot their fuck like grown men; Giton and Narcisse were too young to bother putting through their paces; the abilities of Zélamir, Cupidon, and Hyacinthe remained to be ascertained. The friends formed a circle about a pile of well-stuffed pillows arranged on the floor, Champville and Duclos were nominated for the pollutions; one, owing to her qualities as a tribade, was to act as the young girls’ fricatrice, the other, absolute mistress of the art of frigging the male member, was to pollute the three little lads. They entered the ring formed by the friends’ chairs and filled with pillows, and there Sophie, Colombe, Rosette, Zélamir, Cupidon, and Hyacinthe were turned over to Champville and Duclos; and each friend, the better to appreciate the spectacle, took a child between his thighs: the Duc appropriated Augustine, Curval had Zelmire to do his bidding, Durcet entrusted himself to Zéphyr’s skill, the Bishop favored Adonis to supply his needs.
The ceremony began with the boys; Duclos, her breasts and ass uncovered, her sleeve rolled to the elbow, mobilized all her many talents and set to polluting each of those delicious Ganymedes one after the other. The human hand could not possibly have wandered and tugged, squeezed and patted more voluptuously; her wrist, her fingers flew with a deftness . . . her movements were of a delicacy and of a willfulness . . . she offered those little boys her mouth, her breast, her ass, made all of herself available with such art that there could be no question but that they who were not finally to discharge had not yet the power to do so. Zélamir and Cupidon hardened, but all Duclos’ lore, all her agility, was quite in vain. With Hyacinthe, however, the storm burst after the sixth flick of the wrist: fuck leapt over Duclos’ breast, and the child went half out of his mind while fondling her ass. Messieurs were careful to observe that throughout the entire operation it had never once occurred to the lad to touch her in front.
The girls’ turn came next; virtually naked, her hair very elegantly arranged and equally stylish in every other part of herself, Champville did not look thirty years old, although she was fifty if a day. The lubricity of this operation, whence, as a thoroughgoing tribade, she expected to mine the greatest pleasure, animated her large dark-brown eyes which, since her youth, had always been extremely handsome. She put at least as much verve, daring, and brilliance into her actions as Duclos had into hers, she simultaneously polluted the clitoris, the entrance to the vagina, and the asshole, but Nature developed nothing worthy of notice in Colombe and Rosette; there was not even the faintest appearance of pleasure in their expressions. But things were not thus with the beautiful Sophie: the tenth digital foray brought her fainting upon
Champville’s breast; little broken sighs, little panting sounds, the tender shade of crimson which sprang into her lovely cheeks, her parted lips which grew moist, everything manifested the delirium whereinto Nature had hurled her, and she was declared a woman. The Duc, his device as solid as a mace, ordered Champville to frig her a second time, and when she discharged afresh, the villain chose that moment to mix his impure fuck with that young virgin’s. As for Curval, he had wrought his fell deed between Zelmire’s thighs, and the two others theirs with the young boys they held locked between their legs.
The company retired for the night, and the following morning having furnished no event which deserves to be cited in this catalogue of exceptional feats, and dinner having furnished nothing, nor coffee, we shall remove at once to the auditorium, where the magnificently arrayed Duclos appears once again upon the platform, this time to end, with five new stories, the one hundred and fifty narrations which have been entrusted to her for the thirty days of the month of November.
THE THIRTIETH DAY
I am not sure, Messieurs, said the beauteous storyteller, whether you have heard of the caprice, quite as unusual as dangerous, for which the Comte de Lernos is celebrated, but my several liaisons with him having afforded me a thorough acquaintance of his maneuvers, and as I found them most extraordinary indeed, I believe they ought to be included amongst the delights you have ordered me to detail. The Comte de Lernos’ passion is to lead into evil as many girls and married women as he is able, and apart from the books he employs to seduce them, there is truly no sort of device he will not invent to deliver them up to men; he either exploits their secret yearnings by uniting them with the object upon whom they only think longingly, or he finds them lovers if such they are lacking. He has a house devoted to nothing else, and in it all the matches he has made are tested when the individuals concerned come to grips. He unites them, guarantees them freedom from intrusion, provides them with all the facilities needed for recreation, and then goes into an adjoining chamber to enjoy the pleasure of spying upon them while they are in action. But the point to which he multiplies these disorders simply defies belief, nor would one credit an account of the immense number of obstacles he is willing to surmount in order to form these little marriages. He has associates in nearly every convent in Paris and amongst a vast quantity of married women, and this army is led by a general of such great skill that not a day passes but at least three or four little skirmishes are fought in his house. Never does he fail to watch the voluptuous jousts—without the participants suspecting his presence—but once he has gone to take up his observation post at the hole, as he stands watch all alone, no one knows how he proceeds to his discharge, nor what its character is; nothing but the fact is known, and that is all; I thought none the less that it was worthy of being mentioned to you.
The 120 Days of Sodom and Other Writings Page 62
