“Thirteen.”
“Thirteen! Appalling, appalling—knowing my tastes as by God they must by now, why do they keep this creature back from me?”
“But no one knows where she is, Sire.”
“Thirteen! Appalling. Well, I’ll locate her, I’ll find her somehow. Lubin, hey there, off with her clothes, let’s to the verification.”
And while this order is being carried out, the Due, continuing the work begun by his Ganymede, sets complacently to rattling at a dark, flabby little device, so small it’s barely to be seen. As soon as I am naked, Lubin examines me with extremest diligence and then declares to his master that everything is in the very best condition.
“Show me the other side,” the Due says.
And Lubin, bending me down over a couch, spreads my thighs and, whether or not convinced himself of the inexecution of any previous assault, is, in view of the admirable repair it is in, able to assure the Due that no evidence warrants belief that anything grave has befallen me in this sector hitherto.
“And in the other?” murmurs Stern, drawing my buttocks apart and testing my asshole with a finger.
“No, my Lord, surely not.”
“’Tis well,” says the lecherous nobleman, taking me in his arms and sitting me upon one of his thighs; “but you see, my child, don’t you, that I’m incapable of doing the job myself? Touch that prick … soft, eh? as limp as a rag, no? If you were Venus herself you’d not manage to get it any harder. And now kindly consider this awful article of weaponry,” he went on, having me take hold of his manservant’s resplendent prick. “This matchless member here will depucelate you much better than mine ever could. You do agree, do you not? Then take your stance, I’ll be your pimp. Unable to do anyone any harm myself, I adore having others do it in my stead. The idea comforts me—”
“Oh, Sire!” said I, terrified by the inordinate proportions of the prick flourished at me. “Oh, Sire, this monster will make a shambles of me, I’ll not be able to endure its attacks!”
I sought to break away, to dodge, to protect myself; but the Due de Stern would have none of it.
“Come, come, no shilly-shallying there, what I like is compliance in little girls, they who lack it in their conduct with me don’t remain long in my good graces…. Come nearer…. Before anything else I’d like to have you kiss my Lubin’s ass.”
And presenting it to me:
“A handsome ass, no? Kiss it, then.”
I obey.
“And a kiss for that goad he’s got upstanding on this other side? Kiss his prick.”
Again I obey.
“Now, make ready … lie thus….”
He holds me, his valet moves up and into the operation puts such address and vigor that, with three mighty heaves, he sinks his massive engine to the bottom of my womb. A terrible scream bursts from my throat; the Due, who has me pinioned and who is frigging my asshole throughout it all, is feeding avidly upon my sighs and tears; the muscular Lubin, master of me, no longer requires his own master’s assistance, so that now the Due is able to go round behind my lover and to embugger him while he depucelates me. Those blows his patron is delivering to his posterior soon, I notice, contribute to augmenting the force of the blows the valet is delivering to me; I was about to collapse beneath the sheer weight of their coordinated attacks when Lubin’s discharge saved the day for me.
“Godsfuck!” cried the Due who, himself, was not yet done, “you’re driving too fast today, Lubin, what ails you? Why must fucking a cunt make you lose your head every time?”
And this event having disordered the plan of the Due’s attacks, he fetched out that mischievous little prick which, furious at having been displaced, seemed only to be looking for an altar whereupon to vent its sordid rage.
“Hither, young girl,” commanded the Due, depositing his mean tool in my hands, “and you, Lubin, lay yourself belly down upon that sofa. You, you silly little goose,” he said to me, “plant this angry machine in the aperture whence it’s just been ejected, then, camp yourself behind me while I’m at work, you’ll facilitate the task by inserting two or three fingers in my bum.”
Everything the lecher desires is promptly done; the operation terminates, and the whimsical libertine pays thirty louis for the hire of parts the mint condition of which he never once had any doubt of.
Back in the house, Fatima, that one of my companions I was fondest of, sixteen years old and lovely as the day, laughed merrily when I related my adventure. She had had the same one but, more fortunate than I, had profited from it to the tune of the fifty louis that had been in the purse she’d stolen from off the mantel.
“What?” I said, “you permit yourself such things?”
“Regularly or, rather, every chance I get, my dear,” was Fatima’s reply, “and altogether without hesitation or scruple, believe me. Those rascals are rich: and to whom if not to us is their money destined? and why should we be so stupid as not to take it whenever we can? Are you still so lost in the woods of ignorance that you suspect there is anything wrong in theft?”
“I do definitely think it is very wrong.”
“Why, that’s an odd notion, it is,” Fatima assured me, “and a very misplaced one, granted your trade. It shan’t take me long to disabuse you. Tomorrow I dine with my lover in the country, I’ll ask Madame Duvergier’s leave to include you in the party and you’ll hear Dorval’s reasoned arguments on the subject.”
“Bitch!” I exclaimed. “You’re going to corrupt what little in me is not yet attainted—oh, as things now are I am only too well disposed toward all those horrors…. Very well, ’tis agreed. Never fear, either, you’ll have an excellent pupil in me. But will Duvergier let me go?”
“Nor have you anything to fear,” said Fatima. “Leave it all to me.”
Early the next morning there comes a carriage to fetch us, we drive to La Villette. The house we enter is secluded, but its appearance is not unseemly. A valet greets us and, having shown us into a very well-furnished apartment, he retires and dismisses our carriage; ’twas then Fatima began to make things clear.
“Do you know where we are?” she asked, smiling.
“I have no idea.”
“In the house of an exceedingly unusual man,” my companion affirmed. “I lied when I told you that he’s my lover; I’ve been here often—but on business. Of it, and of what I earn, Duvergier knows nothing; my pay is thus my own. But the work is not without its risky elements—”
“What do you mean?” I demanded. “You’ve aroused my … curiosity.”
“This,” said Fatima, “is the house of one of the most accomplished thieves in all Paris; the gentleman steals for his living—and from stealing derives his keenest pleasures. He’ll explain it all to you, he’ll outline his philosophy for your benefit—he’ll even convert you to practicing what he preaches. Completely indifferent to women before he’s done his day’s work, it’s only after he’s robbed that he comes alive, only then are his lusts aroused hotly; and as he would have the image of his favorite passion reflected in everything that accompanies it, it is only when once we’ve stolen that he’ll accept our favors—and, furthermore, he’ll try to steal them from us; it’s a subtle game, you’ll understand it perfectly, however. It will seem as if we’ve gained nothing for our trouble … mind you, I’ve already been paid for this in advance. Here’s the proof: ten louis. They’re for you. I’ve kept an equivalent sum for myself.”
“And Duvergier?”
“But I told you: she’s not in the game. I swindle our beloved mother—am I so wrong to do so?”
“No, I dare say you’re not,” I agreed. “Whatever we earn here belongs to us, none of that damnable dividing the booty, which, God knows, drives me wild. But go on, at least explain the thing to me. Whom are we going to rob, and how?”
“Listen,” my companion said. “Spies, and he has a swarm of them posted everywhere throughout Paris, inform him of the arrival of foreigners and simpletons who land by the hundre
d in the city; he makes their acquaintance, he gives them dinners with women of our category who filch their purses while satisfying their needs; all the loot is turned over to him and, whatever be the nature of the article stolen, the women obtain a fourth part of its value, this being in addition to anything they have been paid by the clients.”
“But,” said I, “are there not dangers entailed? How is it the fellow hasn’t been arrested?”
“He would have been ages ago had he not taken measures to prevent any such inconvenience. Be sure of it, no danger threatens him.”
“And his house?”
“Houses, rather. He has thirty of them. We’re in this one today; he sets foot in it once every six months, perhaps only once a year. Act your part intelligently; two or three foreigners are to come to dinner; after the meal’s over, we’ll entertain these gentlemen in separate chambers. Be nimble, get the purse of yours, I promise you that with mine I’ll not miss the mark. Hidden, Dorval will be watching us. The trick done, the dupes will be put to sleep by a potion slipped into their drink; we’ll spend the remainder of the evening with the master of the house who, shortly after we’ve left, will leave also, go somewhere else and repeat the same infamies with other women. And our precious idiots, when tomorrow they wake up, they’ll be only too happy to have got away with whole skins.”
“Since we’ve been paid in advance,” I asked Fatima, “why need we go through with the bargain?”
“It would be a miscalculation not to: he’d be finished with us; whereas, if we serve him well, he’s likely to have us in twelve or fifteen times a year. And, what’s more, following your suggestion, wouldn’t we deprive ourselves of all we may earn from robbing these cretins?”
“Right you are. For, had you omitted the first part of your argument, I’d perhaps have reminded you that we can do our own stealing without him, and that it’s not to our advantage to surrender three-quarters of what we filch.”
“Tend though I still do to abide by mine, I very much admire your way of reasoning which,” said Fatima, “demonstrates that you are equipped with those very dispositions required for success in our calling.”
Scarcely had we ended our discussion than Dorval entered. He was a man of forty years, his face was extremely fair to look upon, his air and demeanor gave me the impression of a clever and amiable person; above all, he was endowed with the gift of seductiveness, of such great importance in a profession like his.
“Fatima,” speaking to my companion, casting an engaging smile at me, “I suppose you’ve instructed this pretty young thing in the nature of our combined undertaking? Then I have but to tell you that we’re soon going to receive two elderly Germans, our guests for tonight. They’ve been a month in Paris and are burning to meet some attractive girls. One of the two has on him diamonds worth some twenty thousand crowns; Fatima, I recommend him to you. The other seems to wish to buy a property in this village. I’ve assured him I can procure him a fine one at a very low price provided he’s willing to pay cash; he ought therefore to have over forty thousand francs in his pocket, whether in specie or in letters of credit; Juliette, I leave him to you. Show an aptitude for the task and I’ll seek your collaboration in the future, and often.”
“What! For shame, Sir,” I said, “can such horrors arouse you sensually?”
“Charming girl,” replied Dorval, “I see that you know nothing of this matter: of, I mean to say, the shock imparted by criminal impressions to the nervous system. You require enlightenment upon these lubricious phenomena, we’ll supply it in due time; until then we’ve other things to occupy us. Let’s pass into this room, our Germans are about to appear, kindly remember to employ all your skill at seducing them, at … undertaking them; that’s all I ask of you, upon that everything shall depend.”
We entered. Scheffner, the swain who was to be mine, was an authentic baron of forty-five, authentically ugly, authentically be-pimpled, and authentically stupid as, insofar as I can determine, every authentic German is if one excepts the illustrious Gessner. The goose my friend was to pluck was called Conrad; he was indeed covered with diamonds; his mind, his figure, his face, and his age rendered him almost identical to his compatriot, and his sheer witlessness, as imposing as Scheffner’s, guaranteed Fatima a success no less easy nor any less complete than, by every indication, mine was to be.
The conversation, general at the outset, and dull enough, swiftly became very particular. Fatima was not only pretty, she was amusing; she soon had poor Conrad befuddled and spellbound; while my air of shy innocence soon brought Scheffner squarely under my thumb. Dinner came on. Dorval saw to it that his guests’ glasses were filled and often replenished with the most delicious wines, and we were scarcely midway through dessert when both our Teutonic friends were giving plain evidence of an extreme desire to converse with us in private.
Dorval, wishing to oversee each of these operations, therefore did not wish them to transpire simultaneously; declaring that there was but one boudoir, as best he could he calmed Conrad, chafing dreadfully at the bit, and had me lead Scheffner away and into action. His enthusiasm was unbounded, that good German had an insatiable desire for caresses. It was warm in the boudoir, I invited him to remove his clothes, I removed mine in order to inflame him further; and placing his discarded garments within reach of my right hand, while the dear Baron fucked me, while, the better to beguile him, I amorously hugged his head to my breast, concentrating rather more upon my project than upon his pleasures, I expertly rifled all his pockets, one after another, A thin little purse seeming to contain all the money he had upon his person, I concluded that the treasure was cached in his paper case and, adroitly snatching it out of the right-hand pocket of his coat, I slipped it under the mattress of the bed we were toiling on.
Having attended to the crucial part of the affair and finding the rest little to my taste, being under no further obligation to pamper the great stinking lout wallowing on top of me, I ring; a woman appears, helps the German dignitary readjust himself and gives him a properly dosed glass of liqueur; he quaffs it off, and she guides him to a bedchamber where he falls straight into a profound sleep that had him still snoring eight hours later.
A moment after he’s gone, Dorval enters.
“You are a wonder, my angel,” he cries, embracing me, “a wonder, a delight! I missed not a thing. Oh, you maneuvered him artfully! And, believe me, I appreciate such performances. Look here,” he goes on, showing me a prick hard as a bar of iron, “if I am in such a state ’tis owing to your skill.”
And as he leaped onto the bed with me, I discovered that this libertine’s idiosyncrasy was, with his mouth, to pilfer the fuck lately shot into my cunt. He pumped it so cleverly, so deliciously ran a swift and active tongue along its outer edges, darted the instrument inside, all the way inside my womb, so well did he proceed that I flooded him myself—thanks a thousand times more, it may be, to the unusual deed I had just accomplished and to the character of the man who had got me to commit it than to the pleasure I was receiving from him; for, to whatever degree he may have affected me physically, I cannot deny that, morally, I was much more deeply stirred by the gratuitous horror Fatima’s and Dorval’s enticements were bringing me to undertake with such delicious results.
Dorval did not discharge a drop. I turned the purse and the paper case over to him; he took them both, didn’t pause to examine either, and I ceded my place to Fatima. Dorval led me away with him, and while, peering through a spy-hole, he observed the technique my companion was employing to achieve the same object, the libertine had me frig him, and frigged me in return. Now and then he’d thrust his tongue into my very gullet, he looked to be in seventh heaven. Marvelous effects wrought by the conjuncture of crime and lust, oh, the energy they impart to the passions’ delirium! Fatima’s nimble proceedings finally determine Dorval’s ejaculation; thrusting hard against me, he encunts me to the hilt and washes me with the unequivocal testimonies of the ecstasy he has just succumbed to.
A vigorous man, Dorval returns to my companion. I clap my eye to the spy-hole, I see every last detail: as he did with me, so now he bends down between Fatima’s thighs and presently drains her cunt of Conrad’s fuck as previously he relieved me of Scheffner’s; next, he accepts the booty and, the two good Germans being tucked away for the night, we move into an exquisite little cabinet where Dorval, after having spat a second charge of seed into Fatima’s cunt while tonguing mine, delivers the apology for his originalities of taste that is here very exactly reproduced:
“Kind friends, by a single feature alone were men distinguished from one another when, long ago, society was in its infancy: the essential point was brute strength. Nature gave them all space wherein to dwell, and it was upon this physical force, distributed to them with less impartiality, that was to depend the manner in which they were to share the world. Was this sharing to be equal, could it possibly be, what with the fact that naked force was to decide the matter? In the beginning, then, was theft; theft, I say, was the basis, the starting point; for the inequality of this sharing necessarily supposes a wrong done the weak by the strong, and there at once we have this wrong, that is to say, theft, established, authorized by Nature since she gives man that which must necessarily lead him thereto. On the other hand, the weak revenge themselves, they put their wits to work, their cunning to use, in order to recover possession of what force has wrested from them, and there you have deceit, theft’s sister and likewise daughter to Nature. Were theft offensive to Nature, she would have accorded equal physical and mental capacities to all men; all men existing on an equal footing, Nature would thus have ensured that to every man a fair share in the things of this world would fall and would thus have prevented anybody from enriching himself to the detriment of his neighbor. Under these conditions, theft would be impossible. But when from the hands of the Nature who creates him man receives a conformation which necessitates both the inequality of what is allotted to each and hence theft, how then may one persist in ignorance and suppose that Nature is loath to have us steal? To the contrary, she so plainly indicates that to steal is her fundamental commandment that she makes theft the basis of all animal instinct. Only by constant thefts do animals manage to preserve themselves, only by countless usurpations do they maintain their existences. And how ever has man—himself, after all, but an animal—been able to delude himself into thinking that what Nature implanted in the very soul of animals can be a crime in her eyes or for him?