Erotic Classics II

by Various Authors

  There were no general barracks at Cherat, except on Sunday morning after divine service, at which the Colonel read prayers. Officers commanding companies paraded them on weekdays at such hours as were convenient, and inspected the men and their arms. The regiment had seen such harassing service in Afghanistan, and had so many sick and feeble in the ranks, that it had been sent, almost at once, to Cherat, with positive orders that there was to be as little work as possible, so that good long rest in an invigorating climate might recruit its wasted strength. Consequently I had almost complete leisure from morning until night, and pined for some other occupation than walking along the paths over the wild hillsides, watching the innumerable ravens and gazing into what looked like interminable space. So I at once commenced my new duties of tutor, forgetting all about Abelard and Heloise, and becoming almost one of the family of the Colonel. At first I had a tremendous amount of chaffing to undergo from my brother officers, who could not understand my motives, some hardly hid their suspicions that I aimed at seducing Fanny and Amy—others looked upon me as a lunatic, who did not know how to appreciate the charms of perfect idleness, but I did not mind.

  But as for Fanny! She afterwards told me that in those Cherat days she looked upon me as the most wonderful man in the whole world, for I knew everything. Poor little Fanny. The truth was she knew nothing, and my acquirements in the educational line were to her prodigious. It was not marvelous, therefore, that I obtained over her a degree of power and mind which although hardly perceptible to her, existed like the steel hand in the velvet glove. My word of praise or commendation made her joyously happy, a tear would spring in her eyes if I forgot myself and hinted that she really should have done better. It was an association of real and true happiness, undisturbed by the flames of passion, but full of affection on either side—the communion, as it were, of the beloved brother and the dearest sister.

  The effect on me was very “purifying” Little by little I thought more of Fanny and Amy, and the less of Lizzie Wilson; more of the extraction of the square cube root than of the matchless cunt of that superbly beautiful Venus, although at times one or the other of my charming pupils, leaning over my shoulder, had her rosy cheek, blooming with health and youth on it, touching mine, her fresh sweet breath mingling with mine, and a rising breast making itself felt against my shoulder, yet, as though fast asleep, my prick would remain perfectly quiescent for his master never once thought of the two blooming little cunts, to which he could even then have easily found a way had he been inclined to take advantage of the dear girls’ ignorance and inexperience. Soon the most complete trust was imposed in me by Colonel and Mrs. Selwyn, and after hearing “lessons” I often was trusted to take the girls for a ramble down the wild and beautiful Chapin Gaant, or wherever our fancy led us to stray.

  One evening Drs. Jardine and Lavie were invited with myself to dinner at the Colonel’s. Jardine, at that time, as I afterwards learned, was looking forward to asking Fanny’s hand in marriage. I certainly had no idea of it, judging from his demeanor and Fanny’s apparent indifference to him that evening as on other occasions. As usual, toward the close of the party, she had come and sat beside me and chatted in her ordinary lively manner. Her mind was fast opening up and receiving new ideas, and a month’s tuition had had a great effect upon her. I little knew that Jardine was watching all this with jealous eyes, but on our way home he said:

  “You seemed to be all there, Devereaux, this evening.”

  “How do you mean, Doctor?” said I.

  “Why, the little girl seemed to have neither eyes nor ears for anybody but yourself. And you seemed to have her hands comfortably squeezed between your own. Ha.! Ha!

  Ha!” and he gave one of those disagreeable guttural laughs which I so much disliked.

  “Look here! Jardine!” said I, rather nettled, “I can assure you I don’t like the way you speak. Miss Selwyn is nothing to me but an amiable little girl, who I give some lessons which amuses me and I hope instructs her. She is quick and clever and very intent to learn, and it is only natural that she should like to talk about her work to me, when her whole heart is set upon learning.”

  “Ah! if you don’t teach her any other lessons besides, my boy! What had you to do squeezing her hands, eh?”

  “I deny it!” answered I hotly, “your eyes must have deceived you!”

  “Well!” he said, “perhaps so! But at any rate, Devereaux, you should remember you have a wife of your own, and should not take up too much of the young ladies attention but leave some chance to us poor bachelors.”

  I did not reply. I felt angry and vexed that my innocent attentions should be found fault with by a man who professed to see nothing desirable in a woman but her pelvis.

  We were now approaching a row of huts in which lived a number of married women of other regiments who had been sent up from Peshawur out of harm’s way until their husband’s regiments had got back from Afghanistan to their fixed quarters. Mrs. Selwyn, who woman-like, had insisted on “these married quarters” being securely guarded by sentries, whose duties were not only to prevent any “unauthorized person” from visiting them, but to prevent any woman leaving her hut after dark. This was a source of great irritation to all concerned. The officers wanted the women to fuck, and the women would have been only too glad to be fucked, they had great times at Peshawar, where they scarcely went a day or a night without experiencing that delight of delights, and where they harvested bags at rupees from their insufferable and ever changing adorers, but here at Cherat they were, as it were, in a nunnery, and they pined for the longed-for prick, and the accompanying rupees.

  It was a very dark night, and a kind of drizzle was falling, a most unusual thing. The first sentry challenged, and being answered, we passed. As we went along the front of the low enclosures before each hut, Jardine said, in a fairly loud voice, “To think of all these lovely women here, and not a chance of having one of them! I believe they are all bursting with randiness, and would give rupees, instead of asking for them, to be well fucked!”

  “Right you are, sir!” came. a feminine voice in decidedly Irish tones. “Right you are, and shall I come with your honor now?”

  “By George! Yes! Come along! but we shall have to pass another sentry!”

  “Here! Put on my cloak and cap. There! that’ll do famously! Now Lavie! Devereaux! Let the girl walk between you and I’ll go in front.” Saying this Jardine put his cap on what I could see was the head of a fine and buxom young woman, though it was too dark to see her features. She buttoned his cloak around her, and without any more ado we four proceeded. Lavie and I carried on a conversation with Jardine in order to deceive the alert sentry we had yet to pass, and soon we had our lass safely from all danger of immediate discovery.

  “Now to my hut!” said Jardine, “you are my property for tonight and this is the way to my hut!”

  “Faith, sir!” said she, laughing, “I’m thinking of taking your all! I could do it easy, one after another, and indeed all you could do to me tonight would hardly make up for three months total abstinence. I’ve not had a man all that time, and I did not become a married woman for that anyways!” With a laugh we condoled with her, and she continued: “Oh! it’s easy. it would be for any of us to come up to you gentlemen any and every night when there’s no moon, but you see there’s some so jealous and cantankerous! There’s women down there,” pointing down towards the “married quarters who would love to come out on the prowl for officers, but who hate it falling to anyone but themselves! Only for that and the reports such like make, there would be half a dozen of us in your honor’s beds every night!”

  “Well! we are wasting time!” said Jardine impatiently. “Devereaux you won’t have much chance tonight, so you had better go home and fuck Mrs. Soubratie, if you want a woman.”

  “Thanks,” said I dryly, “but I don’t think I want any woman. All the same I wish you every ple
asure. Good night.” and off I went.

  Was it virtue? What was it? Jardine had been right. When I came to think of it I had had Fanny’s hands between mine, but I had been quite unconscious of the fact. And here was a chance, at all events, to make an arrangement to have this rich Irish lass; and yet neither Fanny’s hands nor the riper charms of this woman, charms which if they at all corresponded with the melodious tones of her voice, must be rich and fresh, had raised the least spark of desire in my bosom. I was amazed and asked myself, are you the same Devereaux who was simply beside yourself a month ago, and whose prick was so ravenous and active with Lizzie Wilson?

  I have only mentioned this incident to show how, all unconsciously, I had fallen away, apparently, from that worship which Venus insists on from all her votaries, but it was by the Goddess’ own decrees, and my course was being shaped for her by unerring hands. Two holy shrines had been erected all hitherto unknown, between the pretty thighs of Fanny and Amy and my prick was the God destined to be set up within them, and Venus would breathe the sweet savor of the sacrifice, when in due time, the shrines should run, first with blood, and then with the cream of the offerings.

  Lavie told me next day that Jardine kept Mrs. O’Toole until two o’clock, and then passed her on to him, and that so ravenous was she that he was completely hors de combat by four, and that but for the distance of my bungalow from the “married quarters,” and the near approach of daybreak, I would have had a visit from the lively woman. I was glad she had not come, for I suppose I should have hardly, when put face to face with a nice fresh cunt, have hesitated to fuck it, and Mrs. Selwyn would have heard of it as she did of Jardine and Lavie. This was not the only visit Mrs. O’Toole paid the doctors, and they kept it a deep secret from the other officers, but the secret oozed out somehow and Mrs. O’Toole was one of the very first women sent down to the plains when Cherat was gradually denuded of all the officers and men of my regiment.

  But early in October a telegram came from Peshawar which sent a thrill of joy through the hearts of the Tommies at Cherat, and made the officers feel happy too, but which somewhat displeased Mrs. Soubratie. It ran thus, “Twelve plump, fresh, young whores will leave Peshawar for Cherat today.” This was the telegram from the Kotwal at Peshawar to our regimental Kotwal. The moment Colonel Selwyn heard of it he telegraphed back, “Keep the women until I have inspected them.” He did not tell Mrs. Selwyn of the nature of his duty, but he told her he had been called for by the General at Peshawar to go down and see him on important business, and he lost no time about it. I only heard of his intended visit to Peshawar after the Colonel had actually departed and it made me uneasy. The house was very much exposed, being at the head of the Chapin Gaant, and the robbers had been particularly active lately. It is true the Selwyn’s had a chokeydar, which is the way English people in India purchase immunity from the robbers, the chokeydars being always selected from those tribes or villages in the vicinity which furnish the greatest number of robbers, but there had been many instances lately of theft and in some cases of violence and bloodshed at night, so that my faith in chokeydar-dom was rather shaken. The nights, too, were brilliantly lighted by the moon, of which the splendor can hardly be imagined by those who have never seen that luminary in the East. Somehow I put it down to those whores that the Colonel wished to see. I knew that from her delicate state of health, Mrs. Selwyn could hardly give the Colonel much pleasure of nights if indeed he could ever fuck her at all, and I also knew, from certain little stories the Colonel told me in private, that he was as fond of a good juicy cunt as any man. I guessed, therefore, that the news of the twelve plump, fresh young whores of the telegram had brought upon him a flood of desire and that he had gone to Peshawar not only to inspect them but also to try them, and fuck them, and see whether they came up to the description given of them. My suspicions turned out correct, for when I went to Peshawar myself, some two months later, the khansamah at the public bungalow, told me that Colonel Selwyn Sahib was the finest man he had ever seen, and that he always had four women every night; and Jumali, one of the twelve, also told her fellows that the Colonel had at Peshawar fucked her every night during his stay, and took three others, turn by turn. Poor Colonel! He had the biggest balls of any man I ever saw, and no wonder if at times his bottled up emotions would burst forth! I believe myself that the sentries over the “married quarters” at Cherat, were put there by Mrs. Selwyn more as a preventative against the Colonel than against the other officers, at—any rate, this visit to Peshawar had very nearly fatal consequences to some of the Colonel’s own family.

  The first night I could hardly sleep from ill-defined dread of what might be going on at the far end of the camp, a mile away from me, where the Selwyn house was; and towards morning I rose, whilst the lovely landscape was lighted by the moon only, and walked rapidly until I reached the Colonel’s house. Everything seemed all right. The chokeydar was at his post, giving from time to time that horrid cough which all give, a kind of sentry’s “all’s well” with them. The next two nights succeeding r took the same walk with the same result. But the next night, at the very time the Colonel must have been between the dusky thighs of the last but one of the twelve fresh young whores, who he had gone to “inspect,” I was just turning the corner, where the path joined that from which I had first seen pretty Fanny Selwyn, when I heard a sound which made me shiver with apprehension! I thought I could distinguish my name being called upon. I set legs to ground with all my force, and ran as I had never run before! A few minutes brought me to the house, and during that few minutes the fearful shrieks had never ceased. It was for me that someone, some girl, was calling and Oh! God! the shrieks were suddenly stifled just as I got to the. verandah! There, on the ground, with his throat cut from ear to ear, his head thrown back and the horrible yawning gap, from which a stream or river of blood was still gushing, separating his chin from his chest, lay the luckless chokeydar, whose cough had given me such comfort when I heard it on the preceding nights. I trod in his slippery gore before I perceived it but I had no time to lose. The window of what I knew to be Fanny’s bedroom was wide open. It was a high lattice window, opening like a door, and the sill of it was ‘no more than two and a half or three feet from the ground. I sprang through it at a bound, and there before me I saw a tawny Afghan struggling between a pair of quivering thighs, completely naked and uncovered, and those thighs and feet and legs I knew to be Fanny’s.

  For a moment I stood paralyzed with apprehension. The position of the accursed Afghan was exactly that of a man who in fucking a woman had completed the exquisite short digs, and was pressing the very last line of his prick way home, whilst he was pouring out his burning spunk! His struggles were exactly those of a man under such circumstances, and his whole weight seemed to be resting on the quivering form of the prostrate girl. I could not see her face, but her poor left hand lying motionless and palm upwards told me that she was insensible, if not dead. It was only a moment I stood thus. Then, with a stifled cry of rage and despair, I rushed at the sacrilegious brute who was thus defiling the temple reared for beings altogether superior to such as him; he had not heard me jump in at the window, the floor was chaman, i.e., extremely hard lime and mortar, and my shoes had India rubber soles, being in fact, my lawn tennis shoes. I seized him by the collar of his coat, and gave one wrench, pulling him up so suddenly that he had no time to let go his hold of poor Fanny, but dropped her as soon as he recovered from his surprise. The half lifeless manner in which the unfortunate girl fell back with a thud on the bed, her head almost disappearing on the other side of it, gave me a further terrible shock. I was convinced she was dead. But the rotten collar, of which the burly brute’s coat was made, gave with a shrill sounding tear, and a cloud of stinking dust rushed forth from it almost like the explosion of a musket. Without attempting to attack me in return, and with a stifled cry of alarm, the fiend made for the window. Before he reached it, however, I had hold of his coat again; but could n
ot manage to get close to him, he was so quick, and I could only make a grab at his shoulder as he fled. Again did the rotten cloth give way, this time, however, not quite so quickly, but too quickly to enable me to grasp the man himself. As the garment almost fell off, his blade or long glittering knife, fell on the floor, and wrenching himself away, the filthy brig—and bounded out of the window, dashed across the path and disappeared as he appeared to hurl himself head-foremost down the steep side of the valley. I could hear him crashing and tearing through the bushes, for all was silent as death. Satisfied that not only was the brute gone, but that there were no others hiding near at hand, I turned with a heart full of sickening fear and dread to the bed across which the lifeless form of the unfortunate Fanny was stretched. The verandah outside somewhat darkened the room even in the day time, but the powerful light of the moon reflected from the ground and the rocky slopes still managed to illuminate the bedchamber, and the small oil lamp, which generally burns all night in every person’s room in India, added its feeble rays to show me what looked like the desolation of death!

  Fanny’s foot just touched the ground. Her pretty legs with such beautiful and slender ankles, the calves round, graceful and well developed, were wide apart, as were her full and really splendid thighs, white as snow and polished as marble.

  I could not but see the darling little cunt, for it was looking straight at me, and the light of the little lamp shone full on it, showing me that the bush, which topped the rounded, sloping motte above it, was thickest in the centre, and not very rich or abundant. I shivered when I saw that sweet, sweet, cunt, that holy land all smeared with blood, and a thick drop oozing from its lowest point of entrance. My God! My God! She had then been raped, outraged, ravaged. And by a blasted, cursed and never too much damned stinking, filthy, lousy Afghan. The incredible insolence which could have animated a native, in time of peace and in our own borders, to commit such a crime, astounded me, but I had no time to indulge in thoughts or rather to dwell upon them, for these thoughts rushed through my brain like lightning. I bent over the poor lifeless girl and raised her head. Her eyes were closed, her face looked so pure, so peaceful, and though the color had fled from her cheeks I thought I had never seen Fanny Selwyn look so beautiful. Her lips slightly parted showed the rows of pearls which formed her teeth, small, beautiful and perfectly regular. She felt warm. Of course she would be warm, for if life had indeed departed, she could not have been dead even five minutes yet, so rapidly had events passed, though it has, as is usual, taken me many words with which to describe them. Her lovely sylph-like form felt warm to my touch. Oh! how elegant were its lines! How pure, fine and spotless was that satiny skin! How beautiful were those swelling, rising breasts—not yet full grown, but giving promise of one day being more exquisitely beautiful, even, than they were now—the showy breasts of a nymph of sixteen summers. The little coral beads which surmounted them seemed to me to have more color in them than they could have shown had death really taken possession of this elegant form. I put my hand on her heart! Oh! thanks be to God she was not dead! Her heart was beating and firmly too. In an ecstasy of delight, I kissed those mute lips, and could not resist closing my hand, so accustomed to it when I was kissing lovely girls, and the sweet little bubbie was near her heart. It was lovely! so firm! so hard! so sweetly filling to the hand. It was an unwarranted liberty, but I could not resist the temptation! But suddenly I thought about the base effects of the deeds of the monster who had ravished her virginity. My eyes glanced again down over the lovely, smooth, dimpled belly, over the delightfully but slightly forested slopes on the rising hill of Venus till they traveled along the deep line of her soft little cunt. What if within those so lately virgin portals were lodged the accursed spawn of a loathsome Afghan! What if, as might be the case if she lived, that lovely little belly were to swell to become the mother, the mold of a child to be looked upon with horror and dismay! Oh! what should I do! Suddenly the idea struck me to endeavor to prevent such a terrible catastrophe by opening the beauteous gates of the temple, and trying to coax the beastly slime to flow out. No sooner thought of than done. I did not hesitate! I passed my trembling middle finger into that soft little cunt, until my knuckles prevented further ingress. To my inexpressible joy I discovered that Fanny had not been ravished. The close little maidenhead was distinctly there, unbroken, unscathed! I felt it well to make quite sure, and then withdrawing my finger from the hot depths, delighted to find by its moisture that nature was all alive there.