“She had better be given confession,” Alberti said to me at the conclusion of the eighth day’s activities; “she will die without fail tomorrow.”
This precaution made me laugh; but when I learned that the lecher wanted to be a secret witness to the ceremony, and that it was but a further vehicle to his lubricity, I fell in gladly with the idea.
A monk came and confessed the sufferer while in the adjoining room, between Rosalba and me, Alberti listened to all that was said. This episode appeared to entertain him enormously.
“God blast me!” said he while we frigged him, “the plight she is in, ’tis uniquely my doing. Oh, how I love to hear the slut tell of her sins….” And, having previously warned the doomed creature that the confessor was hard of hearing we lost not a syllable of that pious exchange. The monk disappears; the lecher enters. Exhausted by hunger, by fever, and by contusions, the young girl looks to be ready to give up the ghost. Such is the spectacle the villain wishes to enjoy. He settles himself squarely in front of her and while he embuggers Rosalba, while the girl accompanying us flogs him, he orders me to carry forward the work he has been pursuing for a week. I approach the victim, I lay hands on those derelict parts, I tug, I squeeze; and at the second or third application of pressure, the miserable thing, worn out by such prolonged sufferings, falls at our feet, lifeless. And it is at that instant our Alberti discharges. But, merciful heavens! what an outpouring: never in all my days had I seen such a lengthy nor such an impetuous expenditure of sperm. He was for more than ten minutes in ecstasy; no clyster, however copious, could have yielded results quantitatively comparable to that villain’s ejaculation.
Alberti became one of our best clients: not a month went by but he passed a nine-day period under our roof. We soon gave him Bianchi’s other niece; she was more delicately constituted than her sister, however, and expired on the seventh day.
Concurrently with all this Durand was enjoying a great success with her cabinet of marvels. So extensively had she informed herself touching all the intrigues in town that in a very short space she was in a position to tell everybody his fortune. She learned that Senator Contarini, father of the most gloriously beautiful young daughter, was head over heels in love with her; having found that out, she went to see him.
“Rouse in your charming Rosina the desire to hear what the stars portend for her,” said Durand; “mention my house; I shall hide you there, and guarantee you the fullest enjoyment of her in the course of the various ceremonies I shall prescribe that she undergo in order to discover her destiny.” The Senator, transported, promises Durand everything her heart desires if only she succeeds. The modest sorceress inquires to know the father’s passions; and as in his reply he alluded to all sorts of requirements, she asked him for three thousand sequins. Contarini was a wealthy man; he paid half the sum in advance; and the rendezvous was made for two days hence.
Very eager to have her future foretold, Rosina writes to Durand, requesting an audience, and in her answer the latter proposes the same day she and the Senator have already agreed upon. Rosina arrives, sends her duenna home; and I do declare that when that superb child was rid of the thin veils enveloping her, it was as though we were beholding a sunrise. Figure to yourself that most perfect thing heaven can make, and you will still have but an imperfect idea of the fascinating girl whom I shall, though it be in vain, endeavor to describe to you.
Rosina, sixteen years of age, tall and shaped like one of the Graces, belonged to the line of those virgins immortalized by the brush of the painter Albani. Her chestnut tresses fell in gently curling waves upon her alabaster breast; her large blue eyes inspired at once love and desire; and to those lips of freshest pink would be drawn anyone who sought the spirit of the divinity of whom Rosina was the pure embodiment. No skin was ever so fair; no breasts were ever so round; no thighs were ever so plump; never was there a cunt so strait, so warm, so dainty and sweet; and buttocks! ah, what living being could have resisted that wondrous ass? To see it was to be overpowered; I for my part could not withstand the temptation to caress it. She must, we advised that adorable child, to obtain the predictions she was so eager to know, cooperate in the consultation; the auguries supposed certain sacrifices.
“You shall be whipped, my angel,” Durand notified her; “submitted, what is more, to a personage who will take his pleasure with you in every imaginable manner.”
“Heaven! If ever my father were to—”
“He is severe, your father?”
“Jealous of me as of a mistress.”
“So be it; but never shall he hear a word of what is about to come to pass: ’tis the Supreme Being who is going to visit you, dear girl, and the breaches sustained through your intercourse with him will be mended in the most magical way. This ceremony, I must add, is indispensable; unless you submit to it, farewell all hope of learning what you wish to know.”
And, my friends, be certain that I was mightily amused by the struggle I now saw being waged between modesty and curiosity. Rosina was of two minds; repelled by the prescribed tests, seduced by the prospect of instruction, she was at a loss what to do or what to say; and had it not been for the arrival of her father, we might well have spent the rest of the day enjoying her perplexity. But as the Senator was there, the shilly-shallying had to be brought to an end; Rosina finally decided. While Durand remained with her, I went and joined her father.
Powerful though Contarini’s feelings for his daughter assuredly were, in a soul like his libertinage had an ascendancy over sentiment, and the Senator found himself capable of a few teasing gestures which were enough to persuade me that he would not take it ill were I to display my charms to his eyes. I complied; and from his caresses I soon reached conclusions touching his tastes. The lewd rascal was passionately fond of the behind, and he was busy paying court to mine when we heard a tapping on the other side of the partition.
“That is the signal, Excellency, get ready; the body of your charming daughter is about to be delivered to you.”
A panel slides open and the lower five-sixths of the beautiful Rosina, that is, everything of her from toe to chin, arrives naked before us and at the disposition of the incestuous Senator.
“Ah, fuck!” he cries, feasting his eyes upon the treasure, “frig me, Juliette, frig me, I am going to die from pleasure examining such a wealth of charms.”
I frig; the libertine explores. For a moment, everything before him appears to warrant his desiring; aye, he has kisses to bestow upon the cunt itself; but soon he is conquered by the ass. There is no imagining the ardor with which he embraces that part.
“Frig from underneath,” he said to me, “while I lick the hole of this incomparable posterior.”
His self-possession soon gone, his iron-hard prick lifts toward that vent, he embuggers. Rosina, little accustomed to such attacks, utters ringing screams; that libertine’s impetuosity is lessened not one whit, he pushes, he presses, he strikes bottom. The rake gropes for my buttocks; he would have my mouth glue itself to his, he would that with one of my hands I favor his assaults, that with the other I tickle his anus.
“Libertine,” I ask, obeying his instructions, “is your intention then to confine yourself to that? are you not going to aim a thrust into this pretty little bush?”
“No,” the loyal sodomite replies, “no, I am not the man for such an undertaking: it’s fifteen years since I last touched that forbidden fruit, my abhorrence of it is of fifteen years’ standing; however, I plan to whip.”
So saying, he withdraws, seizes the withes I hand him, and falls to thrashing his daughter with such violence that the blood we needed for the operation was soon flowing down her thighs.
“You find me cruel, my child,” Contarini said to me as he smote away, “but one’s passions are what they are; the more they are refined, the more dreadful are their excesses.”
At that point, the desire to augment the pretty little wretch’s sufferings introduced abominable ideas into my head.
/> “You doubtless have designs regarding the future of your daughter,” I said.
“Yes; they are to fuck her soundly, to flog her cruelly, to make this festival last three months, then to force her to take the veil.” And the loveliest skin in the world was being covered with stripes during this dialogue.
“In truth, Signor, I very much wonder whether that is the wisest course. However, once you have had your fill of her, the means for disposing of her will be supplied to you here, you will avoid having to pay her dowry to a convent.”
“What is this you are saying, Juliette?”
“Ah, there are a thousand different means to that end…. What! Is it possible? The idea of a venereal murder has never defiled your imagination?”
“A murder? Why, yes … once or twice … but, bless me, murder my daughter?” And I saw the Senator’s prick twitch, its tip rise, rubicund and wrathful: proof positive that the mere allusion to the project was having an inflammatory effect upon his senses.
“Juliette,” he went on, fervently kissing the marks left by his cruelty, “admit that it would be a horrible crime … an appalling act before which all Nature would shudder….”
“Perhaps; but you will enjoy it.”
Then, to rouse the lecher to the final pitch of excitement, I reach for a silken cord, tug it. The light dims in the chamber where we are; I rap upon the partition; and the next moment, hidden machinery sets into motion and we have the entirety of Rosina before us.
“Take a firm grip upon yourself,” I whisper to Contarini, “she is there, all of her. Proceed; but not a word from you.”
The libertine lands upon his daughter, presses ecstatic kisses to her mouth, to her breasts, re-embuggers her, discharges.
“Good lord! See what you have done,” I say; “I surrender her to you, and you throw your opportunity away. Let’s send her back, I shall do what I can to restore you to life while Durand draws up her horoscope.”
I signaled again, the child was borne away; the panel slid shut, and in another room the resourceful Durand sold her to another buyer. Our trade included three or four regular clients exclusively interested in prostitutions of this sort, and we took care to provide them with what seemed likeliest to suit their needs.
I moved heaven and earth to rekindle a spark in our Senator; all my efforts came to nought. Contarini was one of those limited individuals unable to carry out criminal projects except in the throes of passion; my suggestion had been too strong for him, and now he asked to have his daughter back. I went at once to notify Durand; but she, in view of the piles of gold the delicious little thing was certain to earn, simply would not hear of parting with Rosina. Won over to her opinion, I quickly struck upon the solution that would satisfy all concerned.
“Excellency!” said I, rushing into the room where the Senator was waiting, “Excellency!” said I, tears streaming from my eyes, “your unhappy daughter…. Alas, terrified by the predictions contained in her horoscope, she has just leapt from a window; she is no more, Excellency, she is dead.”
Deeply grieved, Contarini followed me into my companion’s apartment; he was shown a disfigured body which in point of age and figure looked to be that of his daughter; and that was what the simpleton believed. He thought for a moment to threaten us with prosecution, but, quickly sobered when reminded of the likelihood of well-founded countercharges, he fell silent and went out weeping like a fool, leaving us in possession of his cherished and adorable child, who, promptly seduced by us, soon turned into one of our most accomplished whores.
Not long afterward a noble Venetian came to us to buy poison for a woman he had doted upon and whom he had married two years previously. The poor fellow was convinced she had cuckolded him. He was mistaken; his wife was a model of good behavior and restraint. I alone was responsible for his suspicions, I had manufactured them from sheer spite. That woman displeased me; I decided to organize her downfall, I succeeded. She was envenomed by her aristocratic husband; you may imagine how I rejoiced at the deed.
A little while later we had a request from a son who was eager to take the straight way with his father. Here, the question was one of an inheritance and of an impatient young man who was tired of waiting; for two thousand sequins we sold him the secret thanks to which he was his own master the next morning.
You will, I know, render me the justice of believing that I was never so much engrossed by this whirl of activity as to neglect myself; rich enough to devote an enormous outlay to my pleasures, and to surrender my body to others through wantonness or sordidness alone, I bathed, carefree, in an ocean of horrors and impudicities. My tastes for theft and murder were given generous expression throughout; and once my perfidious imagination had conjectured a victim’s doom, seldom was there more than the briefest interval between the intention and the deed.
Such was the high level upon which I was pursuing my moral and physical disorders when one day from Zeno, Chancellor of the Republic, I received an invitation to come, along with my two friends, to his house lying by the Brenta Canal. We spent an entire day there, rioting amidst everything of the most piquant that lewdness can devise. Wearied after so much voluptuous revelry, we were enjoying a delicious supper when an eighteen-year-old girl, the loveliest of creatures, urgently requested an interview with Zeno.
“What! Here, in this place, consecrated to my pleasures, and at this hour?”
“Your Grace,” said the servant, “she pushed past the gatekeeper, past the footman, she is in despair, she has rushed hither from Venice, she says that the matter is vital, that there is not an instant to lose.”
“Have her enter,” said the Chancellor. “Oh, Juliette,” he went on, lowering his voice, “lest I am greatly mistaken, I believe an occasion is at hand to put my principles into practice.”
The door opens, and the most beautiful girl I have ever seen falls weeping at the magistrate’s knees.
“My Lord!” cries the lovely one in distress, “my father’s life is at stake. Arrested yesterday on charges of conspiracy, he whose brain has never entertained a seditious thought, he, absolutely innocent, goes to the scaffold tomorrow. To save him there is nobody but you; I beg you to intervene. If blood must flow, oh, my Lord, let it be mine rather than his, let me die in my father’s stead.”
“Amiable child,” said Zeno, lifting the girl up and directing her to take a chair at his side, “are you not Virginia, the nobleman Grimani’s daughter?”
“I am.”
“Signorina, I am acquainted with this affair; and however you may interpret it, I must assure you that your father is exceedingly guilty of treasonable plotting.”
“No, my Lord.”
“Guilty, I repeat. Be that as it may, all is not yet lost…. Juliette, come with me. I shall be yours in an instant, Virginia; I am going to prepare the document needed to save your father.”
“Blessings be upon Your Grace!”
“Be not overhasty with expressions of gratitude, my dear; this pardon has yet to be granted.”
“What?”
“You shall be apprised of everything, Signorina, everything shall soon be in your hands; and you will be able to blame no one but yourself if you do not obtain what you ask.”
We remove into a chamber nearby.
“There,” said Zeno, “is a creature who arouses me to an uncommon degree; Venice boasts of no more beautiful girl; I must have her, have her at any price. Save her father, however, that I cannot do, and even if I could, I am convinced, Juliette, that I would not. I am going to write two letters; in one, I shall request his pardon; his prompt execution in the other. And I shall see to it that she carries the second back with her, although supposing it is the first. Persuaded that in her hands she has the instrument to rescue her father, Virginia will grant me what I ask of her. But when she discovers that I have deceived her … ah, Juliette, there’s the rub.”
“Is it necessary to send her back at all?”
“Grimani’s daughter … Venice, the entire Re
public—”
“She must be denounced.”
“But I cannot both accuse her and enjoy her. Once she stood before a court, why, it would all come out: it would be my ruin.”
“Zeno, your accusations are secret, your tribunals obscure, your executions nocturnal: promise this girl that you are pardoning her father; send her off, as you said you meant to do, with the note that will put the noose around his neck; accuse her immediately afterward: I assure you that my women and I will act as your witnesses. These little horrors are my depraved heart’s delights; certify that this girl came here with no design other than to seduce you, we will bear out your contention; dismiss as calumnies, recriminations, whatever she invents for her defense; fee well the lawyer who shall be given her for the sake of form; let the preliminary hearings be conducted promptly and perfectly in camera; and inside twenty-four hours, if that is what you want, she will be out of the way.”
“You are right,” said he. “As for the letters, there they are. Oh, Juliette, I foresee an enjoyable experience. What a charming girl you are!”
He returned to the company. “Signorina,” said Zeno, “I believe this should be sufficient: read this paper. However,” he went on, “such favors, as I presume you realize, are not granted for nothing.”
“Oh, good my Lord, all we have is yours for the asking, I am under instructions from my family to accede to whatever your requests may be.”
“They are not for money,” said the Chancellor, “what I demand is more precious: your charms, Virginia, must be abandoned to me. I want no other reward, but I shall not forego that one: and this letter shall not leave my hands until I have obtained what I ask for.”