by Frank Harris
At Leavenworth they were driven through the streets and prodded with bayonets as if they were swine. They were manacled nine hours a day and given only a bread and water diet. Two of the brothers, Joseph and Michael, died under the torturing.
Is there any doubt as to who was the better man, the brothers Hofer who went through martyrdom to death for their noble belief, or Secretary Baker who was responsible for their murder?
After the facts had been brought before the Secretary of State again and again, month after month, day after day, at long last, on December 6, 1918, nearly a month after the war was ended, Secretary Baker found time to issue an order prohibiting cruel corporal punishment, and the handcuffing of prisoners to the bars of their dungeons, etc. Secretary Baker already knew such torture was being practiced, knew too, that it was illegal.
Five days later, however, Jacob Wipf, who had been confined with the Hofer brothers, was still handcuffed to the bars of his cell for nine hours a day. A monster petition for the release of conscientious objectors was laid before the Secretary of War and further relief was given to the tortured prisoners.
On January 27, 1919, 113 conscientious objectors were discharged from the barracks at Fort Leavenworth in pursuance of an order of Secretary Baker dated December 2. Even then, Jacob Wipf was not released. He was only set free on April 13, 1919.
Senator Norris, of Nebraska, who had been a judge before he became Senator, said: “The Mennonites are the best people on earth. I have never seen one of them in court. If everybody were as good as they, there would be no need of courts and prisons.”
Over two thousand conscientious objectors were sentenced in England to various terms of imprisonment. In no case, I believe, was a longer sentence given than two years. In no single case was torturing such as took place in our prisons even alleged. No British officers jabbed defenseless men with bayonets, or beat them with clubs, or kicked them, or killed them.
When a woman is accused before a London magistrate of soliciting men, or being a prostitute, and manages to clear herself of the charge, the magistrate always accords a sum of money from the poor-box to atone for the wrong done her.
This practice of compensation is a principle of English justice. For instance, a suffragette was sent to prison in Brixton in 1913. She slipped when in prison and broke her ankle. The prison doctor saw her and said it was nothing; she should go on walking. Her month ran out and she was discharged. A competent London doctor examined her and found that her anklebone had been broken; through not having been reset, one leg was permanently shorter than the other. The matter was brought to the notice of the Home Secretary, who happened to be Mr. Winston Churchill. He naturally exonerated the doctor from all blame, but accorded to the woman 500 pounds for the injury she had sustained.
I would call such action “remedial,” though it was hardly prompt. In cases of death through a mistake of the court or of the prison authorities, thousands of pounds have been paid to surviving relatives in Great Britain. This is true remedial action. Has Washington taken any such remedial actions in any one of the cases of tortured conscientious objectors?
CHAPTER IX
My first visit to Japan, nearly half a century ago now, was one of intense enjoyment. I was interested at once as I have never been interested anywhere else. Almost immediately I grasped the main fact that the people were freer of morality than even the French. I meant to stay a month and stayed nearly six. I went all the way up the inland sea and began, I think, to understand that great people. I had good help from an English captain who owned the chief English newspaper in Japan. He soon became a friend and never tired of putting me right.
The first thing that struck me wherever I went in Japan was the astonishing politeness and courtesy of the people. To enter a hotel or an inn was a real pleasureeveryone seemed glad to see you and the waitresses were smiling with pleasure and delighted to do whatever they could for you.
Japan has been called the land of flowers. It is also the land of the most tender and passionate of women. The experience that brought home to me the truth of my last remark took place only one day after I arrived. It was with one of the pretty waitresses who, from the moment I entered the hotel, did their utmost to make my stay a pleasant one.
The waitress who served at my table in the dining room appeared the next morning at my bedside with a loaded breakfast tray. I had retired late, having talked far into the night with my friend, the English captain, and I had left instructions with the desk clerk for my breakfast to be served in my room at 10 a.m.
I woke up as the curtains were drawn back. The warm sunlight fell softly across my bed and a moment later, returned to consciousness, I was aware of the pleasantly featured young waitress. She moved across to me with the breakfast tray. Her smile was so real and her whole demeanor so charming that I broke out in English: “Your country is truly the land of flowers!”
She blushed prettily and set the tray in front of me.
“You understand English then?” I exclaimed delightedly. The day before she had not uttered a word.
“Yes sir,” she said politely. “Since we have so many English and American guests at the hotel, our manager insists that all the waitresses should speak a little English.”
I nodded delightedly. The Japanese were indeed a wonderful people!
“How old are you?” I asked.
“I am nearly nineteen!” she exclaimed.
“You are very pretty,” I said with a smile, hoping to draw her out. “I'm sure all the young men must be in love with you!”
“Indeed no, sir!” she laughed, bowing her pretty head. Never once did she indicate that she desired to leave the room, not by gesture nor by expression. This I found to be wonderful and interesting, as I was naked under the covers. This must have been obvious to her, for my chest was bare and one leg lay before her eyes. She was the essence of politeness. Of course my interest was aroused at once. I'd had a good night's sleep and my first vision upon waking up was of this pretty girl with the sun shining on her pretty, neatly starched uniform.
“Tell me,” I said provocatively, “is love forbidden in your country such that a beautiful girl like yourself has not a hundred admirers?”
She laughed and shook her head engagingly.
“Perhaps it's that you have no desire for love,” I went on. “Perhaps the young men are afraid that you will reproach them!”
Still she would not speak, but her smile remained and a soft light flickered in her delicate almond-shaped eyes.
“Come,” I said, “tell me the truth about yourself! Do you never long to have the experience of being loved? Has no man ever caressed you? Have you never given yourself completely to a man's embraces?”
“Oh sir,” she said, “why should you be interested in my poor life? I am a woman. That is enough. There is no secret!”
“No secret?”
“What is secret in a woman's desire?”
“And in her body?”
“It is a body, like any other. If there is any mystery, it is in a woman's soul.”
“Will you prove it to me?”
“How?” Her dark eyes flickered softly and there was a smile on her delicate, poppy-red lips.
“By showing it to me of course!” I said with a smile.
“Sir,” she said gaily, “you can see women any day in our country, in the public baths, and in the country districtseven on the streets!”
“That is all very well,” I said, “but it is your body I want to see. Will you show it to me?”
She hesitated.
I laughed. “You see? And now I shall not believe a word you have said!”
Imagine my surprise when, without a word, she began to undress before me! A moment later she was standing, young, sinuous, radiant, and naked before me. Her body was perfect, the breasts small, firm and round with light brown nipples no bigger than raisins, her thighs slim and full at the same time, and her buttocks firm and poised tremulously beneath her narrow waist. I did n
ot need to ask her to turn this way and that so that I might examine her more particularly. She appeared to realize intuitively that I wished to have a glimpse of her from all angles. Thus she posed for me, first facing me and then with her back towards me, and then suddenly she clasped her hands in front of me and laughed.
Without hesitation, I slipped from the bed and crossed the floor towards her. I rose naked from the bed, my erection standing out before me. She made no effort to flee from me, but waited until I had traversed the distance between us and had placed my hands on her slim shoulders.
“How perfectly lovely you are!” I exclaimed.
She laughed and swayed forward, touching her firm little tits against my chest tantalizingly. I looked down and saw the neat, small, triangular shape of her mount with its smooth plumage of blue-black hair that threaded its way delicately upwards towards her navel. I encircled her with my arms and crushed her body close. She lay against me without resisting, one of her knees raised slightly against my thigh.
I was utterly delighted with her. Was it naivete that let her to allow a stranger to clasp her in this way? I think that would be the wrong word. No, it was rather the true innocence of the pagan who is happily incapable of comprehending our Western notion of modesty. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to her to satisfy my curiosity. She rejoiced in the affirmation of her young sexuality, in the possibility of the carnal delight which, untroubled by the cataracts of morality, was a thing to be taken and held firmly while her youth was still with her.
Very gently, I reached around under her buttocks with one arm and raised her from the floor. She seemed to have no density at all. I carried her across to the bed without effort and laid her at full length on the warm sheets. She smiled up at me, passive except for the falling sideways of one thigh, which revealed between the smooth yellow surfaces the delicate pink tract of her pussy. Without haste, I leaned over her and took her left nipple between my lips. I sucked on it gently and felt it grow hard under my mouth. Her eyes flickered beneath their long, smooth lashes, and then, like delicate curtains, were closed. At the same time, she raised her knees and allowed them to fall open like loose scissors. This had the effect of distending her cunt in such a way that the hair near its summit parted to reveal the little bud of her clitoris. I moved my fingers there gently to stimulate the flow of her love-juice. At the first contact of my fingers, her pretty mouth fell open to allow her to breathe more deeply as she allowed herself to be submerged in her passion.
Soon I felt her body arch upwards in her effort to give herself completely to me. Her delicate little hands sought my head and guided it skillfully between her thighs so that my mouth came to rest on the smooth pad of hair that parted like grass under gentle strokes of my tongue.
The whole affair had been so casual, without hurry, without breathlessness, that I had perhaps more time to examine her grotto than I had hitherto had in any previous experience of that kind. I was able to examine the way each individual hair was embedded in the pulpy flesh of her mound, the way in which they had a tendency to curl towards the tips, doubtless due to the fact that she habitually wore a kind of loincloth that not only compressed the hairs but caused a delicate and not at all pungent sweat to father there. Her slit was exceedingly small, much smaller than that of any of the Chinese women with whom I'd had sexual experience during the past few months. Indeed, I don't think it would be an exaggeration to say that it was the smallest and perhaps the prettiest cunt I had ever seen.
Soon I allowed my tongue to move in between the sloping hair-trimmed surfaces. Her love-juice was not at all unpleasant to taste. It reminded me more than anything else of the white of an egg, but with a heavier, human quality about it, doubtless again because of the hothouse atmosphere that was the normal condition of her private parts. I stroked slowly, worrying the little stamen of her clitoris with my upper lip at the same time as I penetrated more deeply with my tongue. By this time her hands had come underneath her buttocks and she raised herself to the length of her forearms and supported herself on twin pedestals. Her legs were astride like the shafts of a cart. How soft and satin-like her thighs were against my cheeks! I goosed her in this way for a long time, running my fingers between the mellow cushions of her buttocks until, with one of my middle fingers, I found the soft, puckered indentation which was like a button between them. It is strange how there should be such taboo in relation to this region of the human body in all the Western countries, while in the East it is treated naturally as a second instrument of the body's pleasure. I experienced no revulsion whatsoever when, without warning, her arms collapsed beneath her and her soft buttocks fell downwards onto the rigidity of my finger. As she sank downwards, she groaned and bucked slightly. Then, taking me by the hair of my head, she drew me upwards until my cock, poised at her entrance, broke softly into her pussy canal and slid, warmly coated by love-juice, in deeply to the hilt. At once, I felt my plunger and my short hairs inundated by the delicate froth of her loins. I sighed and undulated my hips gently in the motions of love.
“You darling!” I cried. “You are making me all wet!”
She answered me with a pretty smile. Then, her face growing serious, she drew my mouth down against her own. Her little tongue darted into my mouth and traced delicate filigrees behind my teeth. Our teeth clicked and we burst out laughing. I seized her thick hair which had been cut in the usual way in which Japanese women style itcut short of shoulder length and falling like a bell about the pronounced Oriental cheeksand pinned her laughing head to the bed.
“How pretty you are!” I couldn't help exclaiming. “What a marvelous time we are going to have together while I am here!”
“Be more brutal,” she said softly, her rich voice tinged with insinuation. “I want you to try to kill me by loving!”
In immediate response to her desire, I thrust violently into her with strong strokes, at the same time allowing my second forefinger to join my first so that the remaining part of my hands crushed the firm flesh of either buttock and propelled her body into a dizzy oscillation. My cock pounded into her again with such force that my balls slapped her upturned buttocks with each ramming stroke. Her belly grew wet with perspiration and her pretty mouth, the teeth bared, drove itself into my neck. I rose and fell on her, my rod tingling from tip to base, relishing the soft smacking sound which the thick, hollow flesh of our bellies created between them. She was mad with lust. She forget her English and a stream of Japanese words and exclamations burst from her lips against my neck and shoulder, her voice husky and lilting. What enjoyment I derived from the slim yellow body with its blue-black hair between the gracefully curving thighs!
As we rose to our first climax, simultaneously, we both cried out in our native tongues. My sperm pumped into her like water from a well, spouting forth uncontrollably and in a seemingly never ending stream. Only then, only at that tremendous moment, did I remember that I had not asked her whether she had taken precautions against conception. I did so at once. She shook her head laughingly. But I was serious. I had no desire that this sweet girl should become pregnant by me.
Thus, in spite of her expostulations, I pulled my cock from her with a wet popping sound. Then, her small face puckered up in mock anger, she came into my arms again.
This time I was determined to experience that other kind of love which is so highly thought of in the East. To that end I turned her gently over so that she was lying on her belly in front of me. After thinking a moment, I placed a large cushion under her belly to raise her gently curved buttocks into a better position for penetration. She appeared to know exactly what I wanted of her. Turning her head until she faced me, she laughed up at me. When I smiled back she wriggled her bottom in a delicious manner. The little pink bud between her buttocks was firm as rubber. I felt it gently with the tips of my fingers.
I decided immediately that it would be too cruel to force a path rudely without the use of some kind of lubrication, though I had already done so with my f
ingers. She smiled gratefully as I rose from her and went to fetch some medical oil from my case. When I returned with it, she raised herself even further so that the little budding mouth should be more accessible. I poured a pool of oil into the palm of one hand, stood the bottle by the side of the bed, and set about working the oil into the coral-colored pucker of her warm little ring. I tested it then with my fingers. They slipped in easily and seemed to cause her no pain at all.
The thought of what I was about to do had caused my prick to become reinvigorated. It throbbed and jerked between my legs, the head an angry crimson hue. Had I been more of a sentimentalist, I might have desisted, but her trust and the preparation which she had made by engineering herself into the appropriate position removed all doubts from my mind. She expected me to go through with it.
Gently, I lowered myself down towards her, placing the tip of my piston precisely on the oily bud. With my hands I drew the fleshy part of her buttocks sideways to distend the centerpiece as much as possible. There were few hairs about it. It was warm and pregnant with anticipation against my member.
At that moment, from her bent position, she flashed me a glance which was not only permissive but demanding and, having done so, buried her face in the bed in front of her. I had no right to hesitate longer. Guiding my member with one hand, I allowed myself to fall forward from the knees, surely and simultaneously longing to penetrate without difficulty or causing pain by a sudden forward movement of the hips. At the same time, she herself acted. Her buttocks rose and thrust themselves towards me with all their might and she cried out deliriously. Imagine my astonishment when the puckered ring opened like strong elastic to contain the knob of my sex. I found myself all of a sudden sucked inwards right up to the hilt!
After the initial stretching there was no further resistance. Her buttocks were warm and firm against my belly and my cock was held firmly in the tightest, smoothest, most delightful little sheath that you can imagine!
