Positions are altered; he lays the mother in the middle of the bed, upon her back; between her legs establishes each of the children, one after the other, and embuggers them while inflicting every kind of painful outrage upon the mother’s belly.
“My friend,” I say, “you are in discharging humor, I can see it in your eyes: a little more and this scene will cost you your fuck, after which you will be unable either to consummate your crime or to enjoy the further episodes which ought to precede its accomplishment.”
“And what other entertainment do you intend to provide me?” the Venetian inquired, his head reeling from lubricity.
“Come with me,” said I, “leave these creatures to catch their breath, you shall return to them in a few minutes.”
I drew him into a little room where Durand, with the aid of Laurentia, had just completed preparing the new scene you are now to behold.
That room was decorated to represent one of those temples where the Saturnalia were celebrated in the Rome of olden days. Nine lubricious tableaux greeted the Venetian’s eyes.
The first featured a handsome man in middle years, prick aloft and hovering close to the ass of a little boy, whom a catamite was caressing.
In the second was seen a woman of forty frigging a girl of fifteen, herself being frigged by a girl of eighteen.
In the third was a vigorous athlete ass-fucking a beautiful Negress and cunt-sucking a pretty white woman.
In the fourth, a mother flogging her daughter and being flogged herself by a man.
The fifth offered a man embuggering a calf and being sodomized by a large dog.
The sixth, a man whipping his own daughter, bound to a step-ladder; he was in the meantime receiving a lashing from somebody else.
The seventh, a group of ten girls, all ten with tongue in cunt.
The eighth, a group of ten men, one embuggering the next, and so curiously disposed were the ten attached actors that they formed one spherical mass.
In the ninth and last you saw men embuggering halfwit or syphilitic girls all the while they were cunt-sucking beldams of sixty at least, and small boys were nibbling their asses.
In the middle of all that, a couple of matrons looked to be offering Cornaro six little girls, aged only two or three, all naked, all as pretty as little cherubs. Everybody wore wreaths of flowers, everybody was in action. From all sides nothing could be heard but cries, whether of pleasure or of pain, and the whistling of thongs and the impact of leather upon flesh. Everybody was naked; everybody illustrated lewdness in its most scandalous colors. Lamps burning scented oil created an agreeable illumination and at the same time shed an enchanting odor throughout the place, crowning touches added to so many others that rendered this temple one of the most delicious sanctuaries that was ever edified for lust.
Our man wanders among the formations; two masculine fuckers and two feminine whippers follow him wherever he goes, applying themselves by turns to irritate his ass in all possible manners.4 Here, the lecher squeezes or wrings a teat; there, he tickles or claws a cunt; farther along, blows of his fist bloody a pretty face. ’Tis the raging tiger loose in the sheepfold.
“All right,” says he, “let’s have an end to this, I cannot endure any more. But I wish to operate before a public, I wish to join the pleasure of creating a scandal to the horrors which will finally bring my sperm forth. Give me half a dozen girls and as many young men, the most sensitive and honorable and decent ones you have here; they will stand about me while I act, and I shall do my best to give the most appalling performance possible.”
I promptly bring him what he asks for, and we all troop into the chamber where the unhappy family is waiting for us. The crowd surrounds Cornaro. Death is decreed for those who prove unable to bear the spectacle, or who wilt before it, or weep. Cornaro lays hands on the mother; he hangs her by the feet from the ceiling, thus causing her to be stifled by the child in her womb. He has the prettier of the two daughters held by her sister and embuggers her; then, armed with a carpenter’s saw, he slowly severs the poor creature’s head, while doing so sodomizing her steadily. The cruel man made that execrable operation last over an hour. It upset three of the feminine spectators, who collapsed and from falling sustained serious hurt.
“Mark them,” said Cornaro, “I shall attend to them when I have finished over here.”
The neck is at last cut all the way through. Another member of the family is brought forward; and it is not until Cornaro has installed himself in the ass of the last of the children, a boy, not until he has hacked through the neck of this last victim, that the villain unleashes the tides of foamy sperm whose seething has rendered him so ferocious. Before the end came, three more members of the audience, all feminine, had swooned; and all the others had given way to tears. As for the mother, she was no more: the pressure of the child weighing upon her diaphragm had suffocated her. Thus it was that in this horrible den one beheld nought but crime’s incarnation on the one side, and its sinister effects on the other.
“Why, what is this, my friend!” said I, approaching the culprit and rattling his device, “what! you are going to leave these victims unpunished, you are not going to carry out the sentence you pronounced against them?”
“No,” sighed the Venetian, “I am exhausted; I am not surfeited with crime, but it has worn me out. I need rest….”
Despairing of extracting anything further from him, I had him served a cup of hot broth, and he withdrew after having paid one hundred thousand francs for the orgies he had just celebrated.
Following Cornaro, the next of our memorable visitors was a Venetian lady of quality and outstanding wealth, very famous for her debauchery. Silvia, forty-five years of age, tall, superbly proportioned and with the most beautiful eyes possible, arrived for a three days’ sojourn at our house.
“My friends,” she announced to us, “I have a repletion of fuck which cannot be let otherwise than in horrors, and these I desire in every kind. To begin with,” continued this contemporary Messalina, “I want you to prostitute me to some libertine, bizarre in his tastes, who will take me upon an extended promenade through the most noisome hogwallows of dissoluteness.”
“I have someone ready downstairs, and I believe he is the personage you require. However, Signora, he will undoubtedly lift hands against you. Nay, he is sure to thrash you.”
“Ah, dear heart, that is all I ask; I burn to be the victim of such a libertine…. What will he do to me after that?”
“After having treated you like the lowliest of the low, he will oblige you to frig pricks upon his face; he will have you cunt-fucked while he looks on, and he will conclude by embuggering you.”
“Delicious!” was Silvia’s reply; “that is exactly what I am looking for. Let us begin the scene at once; later, I shall indicate to you the way in which I would have it terminate.”
I had the man in question brought up. It so happened that he had requested someone of precisely Silvia’s age and shape; great was his joy at being introduced to her. Our two actors were swiftly come to grips; and I, behind my partition, nonchalantly reclining between a set of girls frigging me before and behind, I missed not a detail of the ceremony. Dorsini opened with a dozen stout kicks delivered to the ass, rapidly succeeded by twenty slaps in the face and eight or ten fist-blows, but all that meted out with such speed that Silvia might have thought she was caught in a hailstorm. She remains of firm countenance withal, and the expression in her eyes is of nothing unless it be pleasure. That flurry of hands is followed by tirades of hard language; rarely has a woman been insulted as Dorsini insults his partner.
“Very well,” says he, “let pricks be fetched in; I want to see how this whore does her work.”
Six first-rate fuckers appear; Silvia, naked, her buttocks pressed against the ruffian’s belly, empties out the engines, spraying their contents over Dorsini’s face; he is dripping with sperm; she rubs it upon his nose; his prick has scarcely begun to stir. A further half-dozen youths appear
; he orders them to fuck his high-born whore.
“Bleeding Christ!” he exclaims, watching her squirm beneath them, “what a jade, what licentiousness! You have some heat in you, eh, old bag of bones? Make some noise, whore, curse a bit, tell Almighty God what you think of Him.”
And it is by a torrent of invectives against the Eternal that Silvia responds to this invitation. Never was the idiom of blasphemy carried so far. Of that I would probably still be persuaded today had not Dorsini contrived to outdo her. While swearing, the miscreant was frigging himself, fondling the fuckers’ behinds one by one, and fondling that of his slut also. At length he has her turn around; a vigorous fucker who encunts her exposes her hindquarters to Dorsini, who, after a preliminary examination of that ass, an examination which is not, as you might suppose, conducted without a few vexations, trains his member at the immoral orifice and flings thereinto in a matter of moments. Silvia endures everything and never once flinches: for true it decidedly is that one may glean as much delight in the patient’s role as in the agent’s: the imagination is the only cradle where pleasures are born, it alone creates, fashions, orients them; where the imagination is still, when it does not contribute inspiration or embellishment, all that remains is the physical act, dull, gross, and brutish.
But Dorsini, being himself embuggered while embuggering, excites himself only temporarily in the anus; the mouth is the shrine where he is ordinarily wont to sacrifice, ’tis there his homage is normally consummated; he roars out his need for the mouth, Silvia lends hers, he lodges himself there without interrupting his copulatory motions and discharges to the great contentment of the hussy, who sucks him with an ardor wholly appropriate to her whorishness, and all the dreadful disorder of her lubricious mind. Dorsini pays and takes his leave.
“Let us share it,” Silvia said to me, “I like money earned in the whorehouse, it has always brought me good luck. Well, that has limbered me sufficiently,” she went on, “we can now proceed with the rest.”
The shameless creature then gathered twenty-five superb men and twenty-five girls of exceeding beauty together in a spacious drawing room, and for the next sixteen hours gave herself over, with myself as witness, to the most monstrous riot of debauchery, to the most inordinate and unseemly passions, to whimsies at once foul beyond words and beyond belief extraordinary in a woman who, necessarily, could have contracted such habits only after first having renounced all concern for her reputation, all principles of modesty and virtue, whereof, according to the legend, our sex must be the exclusive repository, and from which we women never depart save it be to surpass everything men can achieve of the most execrable in this kind.
Silvia, all afire, ended up with cruelties; this is customary. Here is the horror she invented. For victim she chose a little boy of thirteen, fair as an angel.
“I am going to reduce him to such an extremity that he’ll be fit for nothing but burial in a few days. For how much are you willing to sell him to me?”
“One thousand sequins.”
The bargain is concluded.
The rascal has this child secured to a curved bench, in such a way that, as though he were over a barrel, his ass is entirely exposed; Silvia then squats over the face of a handsome young man lying upon the piles of cushions, and has her cunt licked by him while another, on all fours, comes up from behind and tongues her ass. Excited by these proceedings, she picks up a lighted candle and gleefully scorches the buttocks, chars the asshole of the victim who, as you must surely imagine, utters frightful screams throughout the operation. As for Silvia, she discharges; swearing like a trooper, the slut goes into an ecstasy, and ferocity brings her to the point where, having had the child turned over, with her teeth she tears away its genitals. We bore the boy out unconscious, he died three days later; and Silvia, triumphant, after having paid me a king’s ransom, was before very long back with us again to renew similar horrors.
’Twas to her recommendation we owed the visit paid us several months afterward by Senator Bianchi, one of the Republic’s richest figures, and aged about thirty-five. That libertine’s mania was to betake himself to a brothel with his two nieces, whom he had in ward, and to prostitute them there. Though he had striven to annihilate modesty in those two young girls’ souls, the influence of an exemplary upbringing was yet strong enough in them to transform the experience into an ordeal. They blushed red when I looked at them; thus covered with confusion, all their candor shone forth, further enhancing the graces wherewith Nature had ornamented them: no living creature could have been lovelier than either one of those two. Simply to gaze at the pair sufficed to make me embrace the roué’s lewd scheme; and I could not resist employing certain formulas calculated to scandalize those chaste ears.
“What order of merchandise do these whores require,” I asked the Senator, “do they like their meat fat or lean?”
“They are too shy to answer, look and see for yourself,” Bianchi replied, raising the skirts of the one and the other, “measure their cunts and gauge their needs.”
“Good,” said I, after a certain amount of poking about with my fingers, “it’s something not too filling that seems to be called for.”
“To the contrary!” Bianchi protested. “I want these children to grow; give me the biggest articles you have.”
And in accordance with this expressive order, at which the poor dears’ crimson cheeks only paled a little, I produce six young fuckers the least of whose members showed a foot in length by eight inches in circumference.
“That is what I want,” our man says to me as he handles the goods; “but six are too few. You don’t know these young ladies’ appetites; meek as lambs they may appear to you, but when they fuck, they fuck like she-wolves, and I venture to say that it will take twelve men if they are to be satisfied at all.”
“Well, here are another six. And you, amiable libertine,” I ask, “what shall be your needing? What are you wont to do while your nieces are being dishonored?”
“I fuck boys; get me six of them, and nothing older than twelve.”
I have them for him in an instant; by the time the operation begins I am at my post, for I need hardly tell you that I was not one to miss many such scenes.
That libertine performed horrors, and upon his nieces had still worse performed. He died not long after his visit to us, and in expiring the wicked patrician disinherited his unlucky wards. So it was that by and by, having already endured severest hardships, they came to seek refuge with us, and it was granted them at the price of a prostitution whence we earned a pretty penny. It was the younger of the two, that is to say, one of the loveliest girls in Europe, that I provided to a man whose passion merits a separate article in this encyclopaedia of inhuman lewd practices.
Alberti was a tall and sinewy man of fifty-five years or so, whose mere glance sufficed to petrify a woman. I showed him the beautiful and delicate child I had appointed to him. He bids me remove her clothes, and then examines her, palpating her uncouthly or as one might a horse whose defects one wishes to ascertain. Not a word during this inspection; not a gesture indicative of lubricity; nothing apart from a bright light in his eyes, and his labored breathing.
“Is she pregnant?” he asked me after a while, applying his muscular hands to her belly.
“I do not believe so,” I rejoined.
“A pity; I am prepared to pay double when they are. In any case, knowing the purpose I shall be putting it to, what is your figure for this animal?”
“Two thousand sequins.”
“You’d get it if she were pregnant; since she isn’t, you’d better take half.”
The bargaining was conducted in the victim’s presence; we finally reached an understanding and I sold her. Bought, she was immediately shut away in a small chamber in our house, so thick-walled and narrow and isolated that there was no chance of her cries being heard. There, with some straw to lie upon, the wretch’s sufferings were to last nine days: her ration of food was to be reduced gradually during
the first four, thereafter she was to be fed nothing whatever. Each day the fierce Alberti would come to torment his victim; he would spend two hours doing it: Rosalba and I were regular witnesses to those sessions, along with another girl who was changed every day.
Upon his first visit, the first thing that cruel libertine did was press the victim’s buttocks and breasts; he pressed them forcefully; he softened them, pinched them, crushed them with such skill that in less than an hour those four globes of flesh were all black and blue. Placed opposite him, my ass was on an exact level with his lips, he kissed my behind while toiling over his prisoner; in the meantime Rosalba frigged him, and the third girl flogged him as hard as she could. Lost in meditation, nothing came from Alberti’s mouth but a few unconnected words, occasionally interspersed with oaths.
“Vile flesh,” he remarked ironically, “execrable ass. Such offal is fit for nothing but to be boiled down into soap.” And every grace embellished the objects he dared refer to in that manner. He did not discharge.
On the second day the proceedings were the same as on the first; on the third, the fleshy parts of the victim were in such a swollen, such a woeful state, that she was taken by a high fever.
“Excellent,” said Alberti, “this is better than I expected; my intention was not to halt her food until the fourth day, but in the light of these developments, it can be stopped now.” And he continued to squeeze, to compress. Toward the close of the visit he sodomized the victim, while pinching her thighs vigorously; then the girl assisting us was treated likewise, and my behind was tongued. The next three days’ episodes were identical; never once did he discharge. By then, the victim’s buttocks and breasts resembled steer hides that had been cured in the sun, and the fever, having continued to rise despite the suspension of nourishment, we wondered whether the wretch would last until the ninth day.
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