April
06-24-2014, 05:11 PM
CHAPTER I
Jean and I and a Miss Latouche, a new arrival and an obvious tart, all had rooms in the same house. Our bedrooms adjoined on the ground floor, Miss Latouche was upstairs; as far as I could see, the family all slept in the kitchen.
We arrived at Kingstown Monday morning and went straight to the rooms for breakfast. I was bewildered with delight at the thought of a long day with Jean, but to my disgust he went out directly after the meal and did not return till five minutes late for the 4:30 meal (dinner) much the worse for liquor. He had met a lot of friends, he said. Dinner over, he went to bed in a drunken sleep, out of which we had to shake him when theatre time came.
"You mustn't worry, Kid," said Miss Latouche, "you'll find actors are all very much the same, very selfish."
At the theatre Restall took me aside. "I gather from the actress's book that you are living at the same rooms as Jean Messel. I think you're a little fool, that's all!"
I was too much in love to worry and after the theatre that night Jean more than made up for the desertion. A pleasant little supper was followed by the speedy disappearance of Miss Latouche to bed, and half an hour's indelicate fondling in front of the fire was followed by bed for us two also. It is of little use for me to attempt to describe what followed.
First fucks are bound to be much the same, all the world over. It was simply animal and brutal. He had me twice without uncunting as the vulgar put it; it was a paroxysm of gluttonous lust. How I enjoyed the contact of his naked body with mine, I cannot describe. The warm flood of his sperm within me was maddeningly joyous! He was largely built and hurt me not a little at first, but even in the pain there was pleasure. After the second fuck was completed. Jean got up and found a real
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"fucksome drink" as he called it—a bottle of nicely wanned Burgundy.
It's Gladys again interrupting. "I'm sorry to stop you, dearest," she apologized, "but when you start talking of fucksome drinks, you're in the presence of one who knows. This is the best drink for two persons, take one quart bottle of champagne and four eggs. Divide bottle into four large glasses, break egg in each, and drink, then fuck!"
To continue: Jean and I bathed in the warmth of each other's loving flesh, while the fingers of the clock ran round. He swore to me that he would be true, sure indeed that he had been true since he knew me, qualifying that under cross-examination, with the admission that he had allowed girls to play with it in their mouths but he didn't consider that much. And I believe that many men are of his way of thinking. Bar the actual fuck, they think that no other sexual intimacy counts as an act of infidelity.
We were too tired or too careless to make any bones about respectability that night at any rate, so after another battle of love, we fell asleep where we were, naked and gripped together, with Jean's penis still sweltering in the grip of my cunt muscles.
I shall never forget the awakening. I was in the midst of a dream that I was the cook in an expedition to the Polar regions and that the sailors had insisted on taking my clothing from me and were fucking me one by one on the ice, till I complained of the cold, so the Captain slapped my naked body all over—when my eyes struggled to open and I realized that I had been the victim of a very real slap indeed.
Above us two naked culprits, towered the landlady, virtuous wrath flaming from her eyes— and oh, it was cold, cold ashes in the grate and a cold blast of air from the wide open window.
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"Get up, ye low bitch, ye disgrace on yer sex, ye fornicating cow of an Englishwoman, get up and let me turn yez naked as ye are, in the Streets, aye, even as Adam and Eve."
I couldn't help laughing through all my shame and discomfort at the comparison, but at that moment, Jean awoke also and detached himself from me—I may mention that there was an audible pop as his penis left its snug sleeping place.
We both burbled our expostulations, but in vain. "Out yez go!" was the cry, and her brother, a great lumbering heft of an Irishman, burst through the door to lend force to the argument.
"Patrick, heft them forth," said the indignant one, and Patrick actually laid hands on my naked body. Jean made a spring as if to tear him from me but one thrust from the giant's arm was enough to propel him reeling back against the sideboard. He fell rather foolishly in his nakedness into the coal scuttle and I couldn't help but smile, terrible though the position was, when I noticed the effect of the coals upon his bare bottom...
But the situation was altering. It was not every day that Brother Pat had a beautiful naked young girl in his two hands, and the effect on him was magical. Glancing over his shoulder as if apprehensive of an attack in the rear from the semi-blackened Jean, he shouted for Shamus and Shamus rolled up, another uncouth lad, only about 19 I should say; but quite enough to keep Jean a prisoner.
I realized that I was helpless. "Turn the hussy out naked into the strate," shrieked the landlady once more—but Patrick's fingers were feeling the lower part of my body. Patrick had me gripped to his stomach and something swelling in Patrick's trousers made him hesitate.
"Ye hear what she's saying," the giant whispered.
I was mute.
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"But ef ye'll jes be kind to me..."
I knew what was coming, knew too that resistance was useless. But Jean blustered:
"We are a married couple, and we'll have the law on you!" he threatened.
"And I'll put the law on you," was the ready retort of the landlady, "don't I know that ye are married to another woman, eh, Mister Messel, and it'll serve the hussy right if Patrick does jest as he loikes wid her."
Brother Shamus gave the clue. "Let's fuck the lass and let her go free," he grunted in anticipation of a coarse scene, "eh, Mary?"
"You boys can do what yer loike, I'll nay say ye nay," said the landlady.
"I'm dying with cold!" I protested.
"Well, come into the kitchen," was the answer to that.
And into the kitchen we were marched—or rather the giant Irishman carried me, while his brother, pinioning Jean's arms behind him, followed, the landlady bringing up the rear, carrying our rugs which she piled before the great fire.
It must have been a strange scene. I lay helpless on the pile of rugs; of course, resistance was useless but I am ashamed to say I felt a little pleasurable curiosity. I took the hot whiskey the landlady gave me and never moved as the great clown of a youth pawed my body and limbs all over under pretence of warming me. The landlady balanced herself on the edge of a table, her old eyes eager with lust.
The brother had tied Jean up with a couple of thongs and he sat helpless on a chair.
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There was an awkward pause, for Patrick was a little shy. I surmise the idea of fucking me had been a sudden thought, the possibility of realization had scarcely occurred to him. I lay before him a flesh dish fit for a king, while the dotard fool fumbled with his trousers. What a thing was presented when Patrick's trousers at last slipped from their fastenings. It slapped up against his belly, a good ten inches of it, and thicker round than my wrist—and so healthy looking and clean. He dropped on his knees and placed his huge hands on my waist. The coarse touch of his clothes irritated me and I struggled away, but fighting was useless; he shifted his hands, pulled my legs apart and the next moment that mighty instrument was touching my clitoris. With one hand he held me down and with the other he guided the tip of his penis into me.
For a moment the pain was intense; it was so big, but once it was in, rapture overcame me. The affair was not long, a stroke or two and the prick was in to the hilt. I seemed almost split in two, but the pleasure was extraordinary. Then he "came", in fact the outpourings were simultaneous, and I chanced to look at Jean. To my amazement his prick was stiff. I didn't know so much then as I do now about the excitement that contemplation of another's acts of fornication could excite in a man.
I have been with a good many men in my time and I know something of the feeling of the spunk-jets within one. But never have I had such a dousing. It overflowed and my legs were covered with the strong, sticky liquid. Patrick shuffled to his feet and buttoned his member back into his trousers. I fainted away!
When I came to, I was in bed with the landlady by my side. I don't think the lust had quite left her eyes, but she was apologetic. "'Twas a mad, mad thing to do," she crooned, "but I was that wild at finding yez naked, and tied like dogs yez were, but I'd have let my wickedness go ungainsayed, I wud. Know yez not that ony soul can cum intil yer room of a morning and by St. Patrick, had it been the praste, its the police he would ha called, and me wid nivir a lodger in the house agin, if not put
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to jail. Sure too, it wasna such a bad thing for a coleen likes of ye to be mated with Patrick Henessey, the biggest man of all the town, sure there's mony an eye after him."
"Oh, I daresay," I admitted feebly, "we were wrong and perhaps the punishment was not so bad, but think of the scandal if it were found out."
"Found out," she cried, "not one word shall be breathed outside this house; and to shame your blushes, Shamus and Patrick will be in the country for the rest of the week; my darter will come and see to things for yez."
I think Jean was inclined to bluster and talk of moving elsewhere, but I was terrified of a scandal and a move would have necessitated all sorts of explanations. Probably the arrival of the daughter satisfied him, for she was a delicate sample of a cuddlesome, bonny Irish girl, of whom the old hag of a mother was justly proud, and explained that she kept her away in the country owing to the fear that the young sparks of Dublin would "cross" her.
"A virgin she is!" she exclaimed with some pride, as if the article was a rarity. "Not even the praste has touched her yet."
"The priest!" I said, amazed at the suggestion.
"Arrah, of course, who but the praste is better to take the coleen's maidenhead? Shure niver a sowl crossed me afore I was wed to my own man but the howly father, and a red-headed child did I bear to his reverence."
I concealed my astonishment at the time, but I subsequently learned that the priests had a pretty fair run of the fair frequenters at confession. I wonder they had missed our little maid, Kathleen. About seventeen she was, full fledged and full figured for her age, with firm
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round breasts, a marble pillar of a neck, luscious lips, and great loving eyes.
The week slipped quickly by and I was very happy. Jean was sweet to me and never alluded to the awkward affair in the kitchen. He made no more pretence and with the landlady's full consent, brazenly slept with me. What halcyon nights those were. I was in perfect state of animal health and my body incessantly ready for lustful caresses. Jean did his very best; he trained for it, abjured whiskey and drank lots of Burgundy. His cock, of course, was not often in that state of erection as I could wish but it was seldom that he could not oblige me in some way.
Our day's programme was fairly regular. The landlady brought a cup of tea at 8:45. This consumed, I let my hand slide over Jean's body till I discovered the state of his penis. If it wasn't stiff, a little delicate manipulation of the finger tips soon settled that; sometimes I had to dive my head beneath the bedclothes and press my lips to its reluctant tip—that always did the trick AT ONCE—the dear thing shot up in-stanter, his hands gripped me and in a moment his warm belly was pressed on mine—we always slept stark naked. That fuck—the first—was always generally very quick.
After that we bathed and played about with each other till after breakfast, which we took in dressing gowns. We had fine appetites for that and the meal gave us an appetite for more fucking. This (the second fuck) was always more elaborate. We tried various ways, nature had given him a long flexible tongue, which he could run far into my quivering vagina. But this second séance generally ended in legitimate fashion.
So much for the morning. I went with Jean to the theatre, we looked at our letters, etc., and then I left him with the boys to play billiards or to drink, or to do what he liked. During that time, as often as not, I went for walks by myself or sometimes with one of the girls—but I was not too popular in the company. I was, frankly, too pretty, and my affair
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with Jean to say nothing of the obvious attention paid me by Restall, created a great deal of jealousy.
We dined at 2:30, smoked and chatted till four as a rule, a pleasant time of laziness and gossip, and then went to "lie down" till theatre time. That same lying down meant something else of course. I always took off nearly everything, and Jean undressed to his shirt. Then we had an hour's improper caressing, an hour's improper talk, and a long, long, fuck. Then I generally got on top of Jean, for I was afraid the burden of his weight might tire me for the theatre—no amount of fucking ever could.
At 6:30 we were called for tea and at 7:15 we were generally in the theatre. Sometimes a little love-making happened during the show. Jean had a dressing room to himself—and a long wait. I used to slip in and talk to him. Of course he could do nothing to me because of my tights, but I loved him enough to forgo my share of the pleasure and minister to his needs by sucking him—though, gentle readers, that is no inconsiderable pleasure for a girl who is wicked-natured, and who is fond of man.
And now we come to the night. We always had three fucks before finally going to sleep. It didn't hurt me, I was as strong as a tigress and could have obliged ten men a day, had I not been so fond of Jean.
I was honestly, gaily (if wickedly) happy! Till the Saturday night of the week. Jean had a very bad throat, it was obviously impossible for him to sing and he gave his understudy a chance.
It was not till we were half way through the first act that I remembered that I had given the landlady a ticket at the theatre that night and consequently Jean was left all alone with the bewitchingly pretty little daughter. That fact gave me a pang, but I dismissed the suspicion as unworthy.
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I saw the old landlady sitting in front alone, the daughter was obviously at home, and I think it was in turning my head to look at her once more that I tripped on a brace in making my exit, in Act II, and fell heavily, turning my foot; further work was of course out of the question for me. They put me in a cab and bundled me home.
I unlocked the front door with my key and slipped in. The sitting room was empty, but there was a streak of light under the bedroom door. I turned the handle softly and went in.
It had happened! They were in there, naked as the first inhabitants of the Garden of Eden and hard at it, so engrossed, that for a moment they did not see me.
Jean was working for all he was worth, and the little Irish bitch had him gripped as in a vice. So beautiful did the girl look, what I could see of her, that I forgot to be angry. Then feeling rather foolish and as I noticed how engrossed they were—they were obviously nearing the end, judging by the panting breaths—I slipped out of the room and made a great clatter in the dining room.
Presently the girl came out; she looked very sheepishly at me. "Mister Messel had not been so well," she mumbled, "and I've been making a poultice for his poor throat."
A nice sort of poultice I thought to myself, a sort of flesh poultice, that a good many men would like.
I made no answer and the girl went into the kitchen.
"Is that you, Nemmy?" came in Jean's tones.
"Yes!" and I went in.
"Why are you home so early?"
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"I slipped and hurt myself."
"I am sorry."
"And so am I, rather," I said, "I'd rather not have known what I do now; I'd rather have been able to trust you. Couldn't you be true to me— after all our love, this week too?"
"I've done nothing!"
"Don't talk nonsense. I came into the room a moment ago but you were so full of your dirt that you didn't see me. Isn't one woman enough for you? You ought to be so glad to have a girl like me for your own, that no other woman could possibly attract you."
He made lame excuses, far the best being that he took it as a form of revenge for what happened to me at the beginning of the week.
It was not till after supper, when I had my ankle bandaged and was resting more comfortably and was more, kindly disposed towards the world, that he made candid confessions. It was the old story—that attraction of virginity—"not even the priest had crossed her" and there was a flood of blood on the bed to prove it; Jean had the pluck to slice his arm with a razor to account for that.
Under the influence of several drinks and a good deal of affectionate fumbling, I listened to the beast's proud story of how he made the girl consent.
It was simply a question of money and only a promise at that; which he probably would never have fulfilled if I had not kept him to it—she had her new dress.
I suppose I ought not to have blamed him, the girl was too beautiful to have been left alone near any man.
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In the morning she made an opportunity to speak to me alone and confessed (of course she guessed that I knew) begging me not to tell. She kissed my hands when I promised not to, and somehow or other I felt sorry for her. She was so very pretty.
I was glad to leave Ireland, the week had been a trying one. We slipped into a regular routine of touring life, a little monotonous but always enjoyable to me. I loved my work at the theatre and of course I loved my intercourse with Jean. We got on smoothly enough, save when he got drunk, and he had not a very strong head. But I forgave him a lot because he was so true to me, and I was always true to him.
"Always, Nemmy?" interrupts the irrepressible typewriter.
Well—all but once. This is a very serious confession, but it has to come out, and my readers must take it and say no more about it, for it concerns people who must not be chatted frivolously about.
We were playing at Liverpool and in the audience was a very august personage, who of course, must be nameless. The party came to the theatre late. As luck would have it, I was playing a principal part that night and I was rattling through in particularly good form. The theatre was crammed, everything merry and bright, and everyone complimented me on my appearance.
I noticed that I came in for a lot of attention from the box whose occupants were supposed to be incognito—it was quite a fusillade of opera glasses, and when the curtain fell for the last time I saw two of the said occupants standing in the wings. Restall touched my shoulder as I was leaving the stage. "I want you to come out to supper with me tonight, child," he said, "with ..." and he whispered, "but of course you must forget it afterwards."
I was a little doubtful and told Jean. "Go! I should think you ought to go," was his decision, "you don't get a chance of hobnobbing with folk like that every day. Put on your nicest things, I'll wait up." 12
Restall fetched me from my room. "You haven't told any of the girls?" he queried.
"Not one."
"That's a good little girl. Now this is a great compliment. He thinks a lot of you, and has sent some very complimentary messages."
The august party occupied a suite of rooms in a big hotel, entrance to which was gained through a private door in a side street. Restall and I were met in an anteroom by two young-old men, who were more or less 'hail fellow well met' with Restall, and very polite to me.
We had sherry and in a moment or two a door opened and the august personage appeared, and made himself promptly very pleasant. He spoke English with a great deal of difficulty and seemed very pleased that I spoke French. I was very nervous and frankly glad when a lady joined us.
Who she was, I did not know, but she was English and pleasant and pretty, though obviously verging on middle age. Her complexion was still fresh and the extreme décolletage of her dress showed to their fullest advantage a pair of breasts, firm, round, and upstanding...The nipples were barely concealed, and she wore no shoulder straps. It was one of those dresses which kept up with 'tact and luck', and necessitated shaving under the armpits. She soon made me feel at home.
Supper was bright and decorous; Restall was amusing and I was content to look nice. I suppose I succeeded for the Hereditary Grand Duke of... (you see readers, it was quite whom you expected) never took his eyes off me, and if I know anything about glances, those eyes were in telegraphic communication with a stiffly standing prick underneath to the table cloth.
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Supper over, Madame took me into an adjoining room, a cosy sort of room with subdued lights and delicate perfumes. She sank with a swish of her skirts into a corner of a luxurious divan, and lay there, showing her stockings to the garters, while she lazily lit a cigarette. I tumbled to the game in a minute when she began to pump me about my morals.
From "I suppose actresses have a great many admirers?" came a delicately graded series of questions, and more than one hint that there was expensive jewellery in the air of this particular room, for any pretty, if improper little girl, who chose to go the right way about earning it. At last I surprised her by my bluntness.
"I quite understand," I said. "His Highness wants me, and your job is to find out whether I'll let him...well...I will."
"You are a little angel to save me so much trouble," she cooed, delightedly rising to her feet and crossing to me. "His Highness is mad for you and my life has been a burden I can tell you. Thank Heaven, this party is arranged at last. No one will ever know, and His Highness you may be sure, will not be mean."
"It isn't that..." I began.
"No, no, I dare say not, my dear; but valuable presents of jewellery are always acceptable to the most moral of us, and especially when they come from Royal Dukes..."
"But I mustn't say..." I interrupted.
"Oh, yes, you may...If I know Serge, you will find some little inscription about your art, etc., that will make the display of your present quite all right. Serge is no novice...but seriously, he is a great deal in love with you...and...stop me if I anger you...if I were you, I would let him get me with child. If the result is anything like its royal father, you may find yourself mother of a Duke...things like that still happen in South-eastern Europe."
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I laughed and blushed but the idea commended itself to me.
"Well, dear, don't think of me only as procuress," whispered Madame, kissing me lovingly, "you won't regret this, and Serge is no mean performer either...I can vouch for that"...and with a laugh, "You'll find the bedroom through these curtains;" she slipped from the room.
In the bedroom I found everything the most fastidious woman might want. I came into the sitting room. Whether I was expected to undress and wait in bed, I do not know, but at any rate I did not, Royal Highness or not, he must make some kind of a bluff at love-making before he got me.
A huge mirror confronted the corner of the divan that Madame had just vacated and there I arranged myself. Not too suggestively but with an air of comfortable naughtiness which should tell a man that his evening was not going to be wasted.
The divan was covered with an immense bear skin and my flesh showed very white against the dead black of the fur. I drank two glasses of crème de menthe and lit a perfumed cigarette. When in the bedroom I had withdrawn most of the pins from my head, so that very little disarrangement would allow my hair to fall in all its glory. Thus I waited.
He was a long time and my cunt moistened with anticipation. That I did not wish and I had only finished wiping it dry again, when the door opened to admit His Highness.
"At last I may tell you, adorable little English girl, how I have admired your acting at the theatre," he murmured, his lips almost touching my ear and his hot breath causing a delicious excitement to my naked throat.
"Your praise is—"
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I was interrupted again. His Highness put his arm around my waist while his other hand began to toy with my breasts. I made no resistance and his lips pursued mine, which were instantly joined in a long, luscious biting kiss. I slipped further and further on my back and was almost in a horizontal position when the kiss came to an end.
My legs were opened wide and I was ready to be fucked, but he pulled me back in a sitting posture, knelt by my side and for the first time I had a sight of the royal prick, and a very decent sized one it was. He had guided my hands to it, throwing back his head with a far away look in his eyes, and as my fingers played with it, his whole body quivered. Then, with a touch of his hand, he bent my head down, I took the hint, and my lips and tongue were soon busy with the throbbing gland.
He seemed to go mad with pleasure; his fingers feverishly toyed with my hair; his body twisted in every direction. He moaned, ejaculated, and almost screamed. His prick stiffened till it seemed like cast iron.
"Bite it!" he cried.
I did.
"Harder! Harder!"
I bit as hard as I dared, never for a moment relaxing the lightning movements of my tongue. His fingers left my hair and played with my ears, my cheeks, the comers of my lips, even as they quivered round his burning penis... At last they caught my breasts and each little hard standing nipple was caressed by his fingers, his prick stiffened to such an alarming extent that I knew the end was near. A violent convulsion of the body, an upward-jerk of the prick and my mouth was filled with spurt after spurt of semen.
As for me, I wanted to be fucked, willing enough as I was to play the gamahuche game, but my cunt actually ached for relief. I had no
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thought whatever for Jean during the evening. Anybody could have fucked me at that moment, but particularly did I want the royal member, now, alas, dangling rather weakly against his trousers.
His Highness crossed to a little table, filled two brimming glasses of champagne from an open bottle, which I had not perceived. Was it possible that someone, Madame for instance, had entered while I was sucking him?
We talked very little. I fondled his hair and face while his hands wandered nervously over my calves. Occasionally I let my fingers fall on his inert cock and a little flicker rewarded me.
But I was too hot for dalliance. I flung my body over his, thrust my tongue into his mouth, and at the same time violently frigged his shrunken prick. It had the desired result. He stiffened and thrust me from him.
"Undress, my adorable little darling!" he whispered.
Standing before him, I did so, slowly and deliberately, allowing his lustful eyes to gloat severally over the varied charms that came to view.
I showed my breasts first; as I flung the corsets and stood with only a transparent chemise round me, and as that slipped to my feet, he stood up, his cock rampant, and pressed my naked body to him.
I pulled his tie undone and jerked the collar from its studs. Presently I felt his trousers slipping and I pulled them eagerly to his ankles, lifted his feet and got rid of the tiresome things. To ease him of the rest of his things did not take long and there we were, both naked.
In a moment, he was fucking me in the usual way, flat on my back, with my legs twisted round his calves, his arms round my back, mine round
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his, his cock banged in up to the hilt, his tongue in my mouth, working for all he knew.
It was a short, sharp fuck, a strong animal feeling pervading it from start to finish; no brain excitement; purely pleasure, the fuck that means children as a rule.
We both spent together and remembering Ma-dame's injunction about getting in the family way, I was anxious lest he carry me into the bedroom an introduce me to the syringe, so I feigned faintness and fell back helplessly on the couch.
My exalted lover was most concerned; he bathed my forehead with brandy, and began to get nervous so I judged it best to recover, lest he summon Madame to his aid. With a sigh and a nicely spoken "Where am I?" I gently came to.
After that we went to bed, His Highness assured me that no one would know of my staying there for the night, which meant, I suppose, that everyone would know, but no one would dare say anything. There was no more fucking. The room was deliciously warmed and we slept naked, clasped in each other's arms, but barring a prolonged kissing of my body, which included a short journey of his tongue up my cunt, there was no more sexual familiarity.
When I awoke, a stray beam of light through the shutter illumined the clock face and showed that it was mid-day. I sat up with a start, disengaging myself from the bare arms that were still round me. My royal lover came to his senses with a grunt.
"I must go!" I said.
"But you must have breakfast..." as I seemed to De about to leave the bed. I was really rather scared of Jean, now that I had come to my proper senses, and wanted to be back and explaining.
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"No, no, my dearest precious one; you snail not go till it is full time for the theatre to begin once more. No, it is useless to protest."
I let myself be pulled back on his naked hairy breast and kissed lovingly. I suffered his vagrant hand to play with my cunt which did not feel particularly saucy; it wasn't awake at present, but I suffered him to draw my hand to his prick, which was swollen to a considerably greater extent than the night before. I resigned myself to the morning fuck, but nothing more happened.
"We must have tea and things," he said, "but I cannot summon my man."
"I'll get up and go," I volunteered.
"No, no, darling," he answered, "I have not begun to enjoy you yet."
"Well, I will hide in the bathroom, while you ring for your man."
"No, no," he pressed me to him and his prick seemed so stiff that I thought it would stab into my stomach. "Would you mind, darling, if Madame Kahn...she suspects, you may guess; if Madame were to come?"
"Of course, I know she knows," I laughed, "Madame has to find you all your little delights, is it not so?"
He brought over a bottle of champagne and filled glasses and as we sipped the champagne, he said: "Madame Kahn is a genius. She shall die a Countess if only for her success in bringing you, ma petite, to my bed. For fifteen years she has never failed to get me all my body desires; she has worked marvels!
"I cannot mention names, dearest, but Madame Kahn has so seduced the minds of the highest ladies in your land, that I have had the lips of
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one of the Duchesses pressed close round that thing you have in your pretty hands.
"Ah, Madame, she collects for me the spectacle of little girls who cuddle each other, till I spend at the sight. Little girls and boys, as young as ten years, who toy with each other's naked bodies...
"But enough, I excite myself too much. If you wish, Madame shall find a spectacle which you shall see also."
I was possessed of a feeling of lazy naughtiness by this time. But I thought it would be very nice to see the spectacle but kept my modesty. "Oh, no," I whispered, breathing hotly into his ear, "but I don't mind if she comes in here."
There was a little telephone at the side of the bed and a momentary conversation elicited the fact that Madame Kahn would be with us in a moment.
"She hopes I enjoyed my night," chuckled His Highness, "ma foi, but I have!"
Madame arrived, severely gowned in a tailor-made short-skirted costume. A heavy veil was drawn over her hat, and a leather coat hung on her arm. She looked smart and fascinating.
"Well, you lazy people," she exclaimed: "I thought you were going to make a day of it. I was just going to Southport or somewhere for a breath of sea air."
"Bonne idee," said my royal mash, "but keep back the coach, chere amie, in an hour la petite and myself will be ready and we can all go. Veux tu, cherie?"
I was game, in fact I felt the need of a little ozone.
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Madame sat on the edge of the bed. "Well, my naughty little darling, satisfied, eh?"
I felt myself blushing. "Oh, very, very, Madame," I faltered.
"He is very naughty, our tres bon garcon. I tell him sometimes he will kill himself with love, twenty four virgins in one night is Serge's record."
I am afraid I looked incredulous. "It is true, ma petite marmite; it was a night of nights, I will tell you..."
"Now, now," interrupted His Serenity, "we perish of hunger, order at once some tea and some anchovy toast, and such a dainty dejeuner as you alone can think of, to follow, and send Gustave."
Madame went.
"I should like to hear about the virgins," I said.
"Directly when she returns, she tells it better than I."
There came a knock on the door and His Highness put on a voluminous dressing gown and went into the next room. I heard scraps of the conservation he had with Gustave.
His return was simultaneous with that of Madame Kahn and the tea and toast and nice little liqueurs of rum to put into the tea.
She slipped one arm around my shoulders, and slid her other hand onto my clitoris. "Veux tu, Serge?"
"Mais certainment. C'est un peu hardie. L'adventure, mais si la petite."
Of course, I don't mind what I hear. I ran my hand down his stomach, it was stiff again.
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"Well, you must know, that there is a little town in the dominions of Serge, where there are very many women but few men. The girl children are put to work early, and there are very many virgins. In the neighbourhood there is a great royal chateau.
"Well, after a hunting party, Serge must tell of all these virgins and young Prince..."
"No names," interrupted H. R. H.
"Well, this Prince proposed that there being many noblemen present, they should deflower the virgins that very night!"
"Oh," I cried, "dreadful!"
"My little one, things are different in Eastern Europe, and his Highness is well beloved. Not one father or mother in that town but would consider it an honour, for their child to be violated by His Highness or his noble friends.
"A consultation was held, a trusty man sent for. He was to procure assistants and with all speed, gather all the virgins over ten years of age."
"Ten!"
"We mature quicker in the East, dear! Well, in three hours, he promised all would be there:
"It was left to me to ensure that the other ladies of the party repaired to another wing of the house. All, save I and the Duchess V..., the most abandoned and witty old woman in Europe, and Olga F..., His Highness' favourite mistress, who minded nothing.
"The overseer appeared in the doorway; behind him eleven figures, girls from ten to seventeen, in gala costume.
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"'Eleven, is that all?' says Serge.
"'Your Highness, but I make bold to present these little ones first. These four are my own daughters,' indicating the front rank, he put his hand on one of the girls. 'Olga,' he said, 'she is sixteen and considered the most beautiful girl in the place. Have I pleased your Highness?'
"Serge pulled out a handful of notes.
"More and more virgins arrived. Some plain— some ugly; one hundred and fifty-two there were in all, the majority very pleasant to look at.
"There were fifteen men of all ages, from old General Souroff, sixty years of age, to a nineteen-year-old lieutenant. The gambling spirit obtained. The men proceeded to the hall and began leisurely to undress, immense erect pricks becoming visible in each case. Only the General displayed a limp penis, but Olga F., with the consent of Serge, sucked it till it showed a real determination.
"The conditions were these: Fifteen large mattresses were brought and placed at intervals down the room. Each man, in order of rank, was to choose ten to start on. And as soon as he should finish his ten, he was at liberty to take from his neighbour any left over and still un-fucked. Unless the girls bled and the man spent, it did not count.
"Our Serge had a brilliant idea. The first virgin seduced by him should for the remainder of the contest, act as umpire, while we women should take two couches each.
"I superintended the undressing or the little ones; the men were by this time all naked, reclining on their couches, jesting, drinking champagne and making side bets.
"The little ones naked, made a pretty sight. In only a few cases was there hair on their little cunts. We had ten servant girls to attend to our requests, who were also naked. The room was a riot of nakedness. 23
"There were bets, the odds at the starting ran: even money on Captain Ivan X...twenty-seven years old, a strapping Cossack officer, six-foot-three with the figure of a Hercules. He looked magnificent as he stood erect in all his naked glory and I rather pitied the little ones who were to undergo the torture of that iron-hard rod which stiffened up against his stomach. I felt terribly randy myself.
"There were odds of two-to-one on Serge, and on the Prince M., a young Frenchman. Serge had first choice. He naturally took the overseer's oldest daughter; she knelt very gracefully and kissed his standing prick. Nine others he chose.
"His ten were marshalled by the couch, each following the example of the first. The other men chose quickly, till all the bands were ready.
"Each man laid his first on the couch, a cushion under each little bottom, opened out their legs and waited for the signal which was a whistle from me. The naked servants, their eyes aflame with lust, waited with refreshments, hot water and towels. I put the score on the blackboard.
"At the blow of the whistle, fifteen male bodies fell simultaneously on fifteen frightened little girls, and fifteen pricks tried to penetrate the vaginas of their victims. Screams rent the air, it was like a battlefield.
"The first bout was short, four or five strokes —piercing cry from the girl, and the Captain Ivan withdrew his prick, stained with the blood and semen. He carried the child across the room to one of the couches, had his cock washed by a maid, and was onto and into his second victim before Serge had finished with a mighty thrust. His girl clung to him, never uttered a cry, but kissed him and murmured loving words, but the blood streamed down her legs. She washed herself.
"To shorten the story, at the end of half an hour, Serge and Ivan were score five all. By general consent, a halt was called and champagne
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and brandy were greedily swallowed. The maids saw that the cunts of those who had been deflowered were soothed with ointment.
"Most of the men vaselined their cocks again —that was allowed—and a general flow of filthy talk ran round the room.
"Then the fucking was resumed, for another thirty minutes and the General was ahead with twelve to his credit. A halt was called again and supper was served. Serge ate and drank heavily with his first virgin seated on his naked knee.
"Drink and the lustful scene that followed had rendered the children bawdy minded in the extreme; they longingly caressed the bodies of their seducers, told dirty stories of their doings at school, and all hoped they might come again. They put sweets up their cunts and let the men draw them out with their tongues. They sucked each other for our edification. The atmosphere of the room was very hot and lust reigned supreme.
"With the resumption, Serge had a beautiful girl of sixteen to deal with and instead of attending to his business and getting the fuck over, he dallied long after her maidenhead was gone. He finally consented to finish, seeing that the other men were getting ahead of him. That girl I may mention, is now my maid; you'll see her later," added Madame.
"Till then Serge had been fucking in the ordinary manner but now he changed. Calling for a pile of cushions, he lay back on them in a semi-sitting position and as each girl was presented he sat her, or rather screwed her onto his prick, and moving the girl up and down with his powerful hands, literally tossed himself off with her. He seemed to be possessed of tremendous strength.
"He sipped champagne between each girl but did not rise. Even when he wanted to make water, a servant brought a vessel and held it for him.
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"All artifices were used to procure new erections; birches were even used, and the ex-victims sucked their cock and licked their hair, ears and eyes, all over their body, their balls, and little tongues took turns in darting up an arse; they pissed little streams over the bodies. Finally there remained only three girls. There were only the two men, who agreed to take a fifteen minutes' rest, but at the end of that time, neither were properly stiff despite unflagging attempts on our parts. They had their bodies sponged clean and both men offered the girls large sums should they win, and the little devils, randy to the bursting point, with the vice they had seen, wriggled.
"'I'll be buggered if I lose,' shouted Ivan.
"That's a bet then,' replied Serge. 'If I win, I will bugger you."
"'A hundred you can't get into him and spend,' cried one of the society women present, a Duchess.
"'That's a bet then,' answered Serge. 'If I win, I will bugger him and fuck you, too, afterwards, Duchess.'
"The old Duchess reddened. It was a long time since a well-favoured young man had suggested such a thing. She only had boys and soldiers whom she paid.
"A smothered cry from the girl, Ivan's cock slipped in and blood trickled onto my hands. He had the maidenhead first, but could he spend? The tears were streaming down the girl's cheeks but she worked bravely in unison with him.
"At the same moment Serge with a great thrust, brought the blood from his girl but he did not spend either until Olga pressed her red lips to his and said, 'Think of me, George darling,' and suddenly his still erect cock bubbling with sperm, burst. He had won.
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"The final fuck was a matter of form. Fortified by caviar, champagne, pate de fois gras, and champagne, he fucked the last one easily and quickly.
"He marshalled the twenty-four little victims who carried his card on their ribbons, kissed them all and sent them off to the stewardess to get money and clothes, all save the pretty darling whom he intended to keep, and the performance was closed, as far as the children were concerned.
"The house party remained and for an hour bawdy conversation dealing principally with what was going to happen to Ivan and the Duchess prevailed.
"At last Serge declared himself ready. He did not need any frigging. He had not done such a thing since the old days in the military school, he said. Ivan the giant blushed like a girl, as we placed him in a position. No ointment was needed, I licked his arsehole first, then placing my fingers in my dripping cunt, anointed his hole with spend. Olga licked and spat on Serge's cock. It was iron stiff and greasy but it did not go in without a struggle. It hurt poor Ivan at first but once in, he seemed, from the quivering of his body, to like it, and gradually his cock stiffened. Quick as lightning, Olga flung herself underneath him, guided his cock in her, flung her lively legs round both their bodies, for Serge was bending over Ivan, and fucked voluptuously. The culmination was mutual and the three bodies collapsed limply together, poor Olga nearly crushed by the weight of the two heavy men.
"'Now, for Madame la Duchesse!' was the general shout, as Serge withdrew his dripping cock.
"Serge needed no rest, he seemed endowed with new life. The wicked old Duchess lay down on a couch, a little wine was given her as jumping powder, and into her went Serge. It was a long randy fuck, both mutually enjoying it, especially the Duchess, who screamed with
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delight when the final spasm came and Serge, covering her old face still retaining some of her world famous beauty, with kisses, slowly withdrew.
"And now a regular orgy set in, the five men set apart for the Duchess, religiously did their duty, but the other ten fell upon the remaining four women and the child who was still there. I know I was fucked four times by whom I wasn't quite sure, out I was content to take whatever prick came handy.
"It was a riot of the flesh for days afterwards, I could feel in imagination the touch of legs between mine, the pressure of lips on mine, the grip of arms and pressure of hard cocks into my cunt.
"Most of us fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.
When I awoke the full day was throwing shafts of light through the chinks of the shutters. By my side lay a naked man, his hand still affectionately laid on my stomach. All round were naked forms, nearly all sleeping. I saw Serge in the arms of his little girl.
"Ivan slept heavily with Olga's naked body thrown across him. One of the men was at the table drinking and smoking, and the Duchess was drinking and writing letters—marvellous old woman.
"It struck cold and I struggled to my feet. Presently the majority of the guests awoke and rather shamefacedly we made to our bedrooms, leaving the clothing to be fetched by the servants. Luckily, they were used to such orgies in the chateau.
"I kept my room for three days, only going to the windows to see the deflowered children drive to their homes. I gathered afterwards that it cost Serge a good bit—some special dispensation was obtained, however. It was a memory!"
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You may be sure that little Nemmy had drunk this story with avidity. As it came to an end, I sank back on the pillow with a gasp.
"Oh, I wish I had been there!" I said.
"Will you come with me to my kingdom, then?"
"Perhaps, some day." When it came to the actual promising, I felt a little nervous.
His Highness laughed. "She tells the story well, la belle Madame, n'est ce pas?"
I admitted that she certainly did.
"Well, Madame, we perish of hunger, will you attend? Let us have it here, I am too faint to rise yet." Madame disappeared after kissing me voluptuously; her story had made her naughty.
Lunch made its appearance at once, brought by Madame on a dainty tray.
His Highness would not allow me to put anything on and we were both stark naked when she came in. We sipped and nibbled.
At last he finished, and to my surprise, got up from the bed and walked naked, his penis rampant, across to the table where the champagne bottle was.
"Serge," cried Madame, "but you are marvellously fit this morning."
"It is what you have brought me that has done it," he answered, and coming to the bedside he flung off the clothes and showing me all bare, pressed a hot kiss to my cunt.
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As I lay there quivering, all on fire for filth, Madame toyed with me, her dexterous fingers running all over my body.
His Highness pulled her from me, and dragging off her bodice from her, exposed too, her naked breasts, not such a good sight as mine but very tempting. She flung herself on the bed by my side and grappled me; the contact of her warm flesh sent flames of desire all through me. The Prince came back to the bed and between them they rolled me from side to side, kissing me everywhere, licking my flesh. I think that Madame thrust her tongue further down my cunt than any one ever had before.
It was glorious; I panted for lust; my hands flew over their bodies, now gripping his throbbing cock now dipping into her sweltering cunt. His Highness pressed my ringers together and pushed my hand into her cunt, then licked the moisture from it. Occasionally a drop appeared at the end of his penis, which I kissed away, but he would delay the fuck. For myself, I could scarcely count the number of times I had spent; the moisture was streaming down my legs, and Madame was in a like plight. At last he freed himself from me. "Put the cushions under her!" he said huskily to Madame.
She waited while she undressed altogether, and then lifted my willing body and piled the cushions beneath me till my arse was lifted high above my head.
Then she sat herself behind me and I felt her warm body supporting mine, her knees round my waist, her arms clutched about me, her wet cunt oozing against a cheek of my bottom. It was a delicious position. She was herself backed up with pillows so that she half reclined with my body resting on her stomach, and His Highness, his cock almost at bursting point, stood and surveyed us.
It could not last long, I put my hands behind me and drove my fingers into her cunt for very wickedness. My legs were opened wide and I felt as if my whole body were one great gaping cunt.
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His Highness lit a cigar; even in my anger at further delay, I could not help noticing the wonderful aroma. He blew the perfumed smoke over our bodies, while his hands slowly caressed me. He straddled over my expectant body, pressing his taut cock against my belly while he kissed the face of the woman behind me. Her hands were now messing with my cunt, and the smell of the escaping semen mingled with that of the cigar, and the delicate breath of the perfumes with which Madame's body was covered. Would he never come to the point, I thought. I would not ask, but all my quivering body begged for fucking, and he knew it!
He the lay upon me, his legs between mine, and discussed with Madame the many beauties of my body, and—well, at last he had me. We spent mutually. Madame then took me to the bathroom and bathed my tired body in scented water till new life glowed in it.
In an hour I was dressed. A caviar sandwich and a cocktail and Madame spirited me to the coach. His Highness, she said, would meet us at the L. and N.W.R. Hotel presently.
His Highness picked me up and we had a bracing drive, only just returning in time for me to go straight to the theatre. I met Jean in the passage.
"Well," he said, "what happened; why didn't you come home? I waited up."
"I wasn't well," I answered, "and thought it better to stop over for the night."
"That means that you slept with the Prince?"
"It doesn't."
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"Come into my room." When we were alone, he pulled me on his knee and slid his hand up my clothes suddenly. "Those are not your drawers," and he drew my skirt up.
I had forgotten, they were some that Madame Kahn had given me, and what was worse—they had a coronet embroidered on them.
"You DID sleep with him?"
"Oh, well, if you must know: YES, I did! One doesn't get the chance of sleeping with a royal Prince every day—and it doesn't make any difference to my love for you, Jean."
"Oh, I don't mind, it's all in the business; what did he give you?"
"Nothing."
"You damned little fool; do you mean to say you slept with a Prince and got nothing—nothing?"
That nettled me and I left in a temper; I was beginning to find Jean out.
I had no chance to speak to Restall during the first act but he glanced quizzically at me. Going to my room in the interval, the hall keeper said there was a Commissaire to see me. The man wore the livery of a London hotel, which surprised me.
"I've come from London to bring you this, Miss," he said, "I've 'ad a 'ard job to get a train. Got down in four hours without a stop. Lord, it did shake, only one coach! Special train. 'Is Highness telephones me 'ow no expense was to be spared, but you must 'ave it tonight. Will you give me a receipt, Miss?"
I gave him a receipt, and opened the parcel and found a velvet case which I opened. A collar of pearls, black and white intermixed and obviously of enormous value. The clasp was a medallion of blue
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enamel, heavily set with diamonds and inscribed in small but very white diamonds:
To N. H. in remembrance of her delightful performance
It was a magnificent present and the double entendre of the inscription pleased me.
Halfway through Act II, I changed to a prince's costume. With that I could wear the collar. The prince, Madame Kahn and a young man were in the box, and I longed to wear it. There was a general gasp of astonishment in the dressing room when I put it on.
"Wherever did you get that? Why, it must be worth thousands."
I said an old admirer had sent it from London. As I was waiting in the wings for my cue, Restall bustled up to me. "Well, dear," he whispered, "how did it go?"
I pointed to my collar and at that instant a shaft of light from the opposite side illuminated the beautiful jewels.
"Good God, child, it is worth a fortune; whatever did you do to him?"
"If I show you, will you take it as payment of a commission?"
"Rather. Tonight?"
"No, wait till Sunday night, when we are not tired," and I pinched his thigh.
Presently a little note came from His Highness.
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Dear Child:
The trifle becomes you well. I leave tonight for London. Send your permanent address to the Legation. We must not lose sight of each other.
When I next went on the stage, the box was empty. As the curtain fell, Restall stopped me. "You mustn't take that thing home, child; it's dangerous. Meet me in the bar and we'll put it in the theatre safe till you are back in London."
From Liverpool we were to cross to Doyglas, another sea voyage.
"Going to be a dirty night, I'm afraid," said one of our comedians.
"Speak for yourself," was the answer: "I'm going to sleep alone."
I did not get to bed but sat with one of the other girls in a corner of the saloon, concealed behind a curtain. On the other side were the men of the company, and gay and vulgar talk flashed between them.
This is one of the tales:
I knew a young man who got a roaring clap just three days before his wedding day. The doctor told him not to have connection with a woman for at least three weeks. What was he to do?
Well, when the happy pair eventually got to bed that night, the young man found that the girl was of a very hot nature and evidently expected something. So ducking his head, he applied his tongue to her clitoris and repeated his Paris triumphs in the licking off line, explaining to her that this alone was the famous nuptial act which her mother had led her to prepare for.
This continued for three weeks and the girl loved it, but at last the doctor pronounced her husband whole. With joy in his heart and a
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mighty horn at the root of his stomach, that worthy prepared to give her the coup de grace. But hardly had his swelling member won one inch within its proper chamber, when the girl leapt from him, exclaiming:
Now, then, none of your nasty "French tricks!"
But to resume:
A surprise awaited us at Douglas. Letty Latouche, Jean and I had engaged rooms together as usual, but on landing in the morning, Jean was confronted with a telegram recalling him forthwith. His wife was seriously ill.
He went by return boat, an understudy was summoned and one young man, who had been unable to find rooms, begged for Jean's, and I by no means rejected him. I found the feet of clay on my idol Jean and I had a sneaking regard for this boy. Why not a lustful week with him?
Jimmy Kendall was his name. We were hard at it in the theatre all day, but I soon saw that Jimmy had made up his mind what was to happen. A sly kiss when I told him it was all right about the rooms, settled matters.
Supper that night seemed near ending. I was done and ready for bed in ten minutes, but Jimmy and Letty kept on talking—I'm sure she did it on purpose. At last the old hag of a landlady skulked into the room to ask if we wanted anything more. That gave me my cue for bed and I went.
Jimmy made a bold pretence of kissing me good night, whispering that he would not be long. I was out of my clothes like a flash of lightning, and I sponged my body with warm perfumed water and slipped into my nightdress and slid in between the sheets. I was in a glow of apprehension when I heard the door open to admit—Letty.
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"Oh, it's you!" I said in plainly disgusted accents.
"He will be a few minutes, the old lady is talking to him and he can't rid himself of her. I thought I'd tell you."
She sat on the bed and began fingering my arm. How much as I enjoyed a little illicit amusement with Letty before, I had no inclination now, and I told her so.
"Very well," she said. "Keep it all for him, my dearie, but you must realize my position. I've got no one and I feel as randy as hell, just play with me for a moment and I'll go."
I had to do it. She got into bed with me and I frigged her till my hand was covered with spend and she nearly bit my tongue off with kisses. "Now, dearest, I'll leave you to it," and she kissed me adieu.
Jimmy was not long and when at last he did slip through the door, only a suit of silken pyjamas hid his body from me.
He crept into bed, we were both nervous and he gripped my burning body in his arms. For nearly five minutes his lips remained pressed to mine. It was five minutes of supreme delight. I could feel the iron profile of his cock against my stomach. As our lips unglued, his hands slipped down; he raised my night dress, dallied just a little over my legs, and touched me on the clitoris. I bit him on the neck in my mad delight.
"Quiet, dearest little Nemmy," he whispered. "I don't want to be killed." Then he drew himself on top of me till our bare stomachs burned together, curled my legs over him and the game began.
It was a short but violent fuck. We must have nearly broken the bed and I wonder we didn't wake the whole terrace up. He nearly broke my back with the vigour of his grip.
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He bundled me out of bed when it was over. "Have you a syringe, darling," he asked. He was pleased when I produced it, and helped me manipulate it, as he was a practiced man.
We each had a drink of whiskey before taking encores. We had a half hour's fondling, most delightful of love's ecstasies, the actual fuck is so fleeting. Our next séance was longer, he placed me on top of him. I felt no weight but I had to do all the work. Still, it was delicious. We spent heavily and lay prone.
"Get up, silly," he said, but I was lazy. "You must get up," and he jerked me to my feet, held me upright, placed his finger in the mouth of my cunt and parted the lips wide. "Let it come out," he said, supporting me with an arm round my waist. "I don't want you in the family way."
A moment later, he put his finger all thickly smeared with my spendings and his own into his mouth and licked it clean with a gesture of contentment.
"You dirty beast!" I said, with a shudder.
"Look here, Nemmy, you're too damned sober," was all his answer. He took the bottle and poured me out what looked like a terribly strong whiskey. "Mop that up like a good girl, and don't find fault with me any more," he said.
The spirits ran riot in my head and when he asked me to clean his member for him in the same way, it seemed nothing to run my tongue over it, slimy with spunk, draw it into my mouth and return it to him clean. In fact I could have gone on licking it, only he forbade it.
To detail all the events of that wonderful night would take more space than I have at my command.
We continued fucking, sucking and the rest of it. By this time the amount of whiskey we had drunk made us both absolutely filthy and
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for the first time I experienced no repulsion in sitting on the chamber pot and making water in a man's presence.
For our last bout, Jimmy stretched me face downwards on the bed and got into my cunt from behind. That, I think, I enjoyed the most of that immemorial night's session of strokes, though the commencement was extremely painful. This time he was almost half an hour in me before he spent—how many times I came, I could not count. Anyway, the bed was drenched. I would nearly have liked to stay all night in his arms but prudence forbade; we didn't want a scandal, but oh, how I longed for another taste of pleasure when I awoke late on the following morning, and how disappointed when I came in to breakfast to find that Jimmy had gone out.
He was out practically all day, returning just in time for our early dinner. After dinner he went to his room and locked the door. I was maddened with lust and when he reappeared just in time to see me to the theatre, I reproached him.
A bad headache, was his excuse and with that I had to be content. As we came to the stage door, we met Restall, who looked at me curiously, obviously with no great liking for my escort. In the theatre I was the subject of a great deal of chaff about Jimmy: and the semi-liaison seemed fairly common property already.
After the performance, Restall sent his dresser with a message that I was to come to his room at once. I went in my full stage dress. I found Restall also in his fancy costume smoking a cigar and drinking a glass of champagne.
"I hear," he began, "that you and Kendall have fixed up a little affair. You're living together?"
I assured him that nothing of the sort existed, but he did not believe me, and proceeded to tell me that I was a little idiot to land myself to an actor. "You or he will leave the company," was his ultimatum. 38
I threw myself on his mercy, confessed my affection for Jean and said without him life would be a blank...and made use of a woman's weapon, tears.
He relented, or he saw a chance, perhaps both, for he pulled me onto his knees and kissed me! "You repent it," he said, "still I mustn't break a rule of my company without some compensation," and he slid his hands up my tights. In a second he gripped me and the lips that pressed mine were red hot.
I was coiling with lust; after all, it was Jimmy's fault for having left me unsatisfied that morning. As he sat back on the sofa, I sank limply on top of him and let his vicious tongue dart round my mouth...another moment and my own tongue was reciprocal.
April
06-24-2014, 05:14 PM
CHAPTER V
Lewis was thoroughly businesslike with me. He was to keep me comfortably and well, and give me all the pocket money in reason. When the next play was produced, I was to draw a good salary in addition. Then I was to have a couple of rooms elsewhere, so that no one should know of our liaison.
Time jogged on comfortably. Lewis was rather exigent, but he did me very well. He was an amusing companion, versed to the finger tips in every art of vice. I was an apt pupil. It was always assumed when guests arrived that I was also a guest—the daughter of an old friend, who is to be a big success on the stage.
One week Lewis was summoned hastily to Paris and I was very much alone. I was a great deal tempted to go out and chance meeting Annesley or Walker Bird, but thought it better to renew these acquaintances when I was playing a part.
They were dull days, partly taken up by singing lessons, but I began to yearn for a man of some kind. I had even thought of the page boy in that category.
On the seventh day it was particularly lonely, the housekeeper was away for the day and night and Lewis was still in Paris.
I undressed and lay in bed reading a book which seemed rather dull. I rang the bell for the maid to bring me a whiskey and soda.
"Come in!" I cried in answer to a knock, and not bothering to turn my head. I heard the door open, light footsteps and then—goodness gracious, there was the page boy!
There he stood, scarcely concealing a smile at my nakedness, and said: "Well, Madame," with a cheeky grin.
"How dare you come!" I ejaculated.
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"There is no one else in, you remember, you gave Thomson the evening off."
Then did I remember and blushed all over as I recollected what very much exposed charms the little imp was gazing at. I bundled him off to get the whiskey and things and got myself covered in bed.
He was soon back and took an unnecessarily long time about the business of putting a tumbler by the bedside, etc.
I suppose it was my loneliness that made me do it out for lack of anything else to talk about, I began to question him about his life. He had been in some Godless places it appeared. Gardener's boy in a smart tart's country house, at least I gathered she was a tart from his naive confession that she had a lot of husbands, and while he was talking I suddenly perceived that the cheeky little wretch was sitting on edge of the bed and feeling my toes through the bedclothes. I pretended not to notice it.
He was just fifteen he told me, and when I asked it he had ever had a sweetheart, he straightway gave the maid Thomson away and named her. In fact, I got out of him, by the time he had summoned up courage to advance his hand to my knee, that he was in the habit of sleeping with her.
It's no use disguising the fact any longer— from the moment the boy touched my foot and I saw he was a very pretty boy, I had determined to gratify my lust with him.
Never before had it occurred to me that a little boy could be so nice; I had never been anxious for such a trial but that night the idea obsessed me. I meant, however, to leave it to him to make the first attempt.
He began awkwardly enough by saying that he had seen me on the stage in London—which was an obvious lie, as I had never played in London—and that I looked lovely.
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Of course, I asked him if I didn't look nicer off, and he looked me straight in the face and answered: "Yes!"
I had laid my bare arm over the coverlet then, and he had taken my fingers in his. He was a pretty boy and his tight fitting livery showed his figure off to advantage.
I found it impossible to get him to make the necessary overtures, and had to do something myself. I led him to talk of the girls he had kissed and banteringly told him that I did not believe he knew how to kiss—that, of course, meant that he kissed me and that action at once removed the barrier between mistress and servant which had hitherto separated us. I had my arm over his neck and kept him down on me after he had kissed me.
"And what do you do to Thomson when you sleep with her?" I asked.
He had the assurance to answer: "What you and master do."
I slid my other hand between his legs and felt, as I said: "I don't believe you are old enough!" but there was something pretty stiff inside his little trousers, I can tell you.
Well, the upshot of the thing was that the boy pushed his hand underneath the bedclothes, pulled up my nightdress and felt my naked pussy. I stood it for a minute and then thrust him from the bed and told him to undress.
"Undress yourself and show me what you did to Thomson," I commanded with lust, and spending like a fountain.
He obeyed quickly enough. He wanted to jump into bed as soon as he was naked, but I wouldn't allow that; I made him stand up to be looked at. He was beautifully formed and had the dearest little thing growing bolt upright from a very young undergrowth of fern. I told him to drink
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a glass of whiskey, and then flung the clothes from me and lay open-legged for the onslaught.
It was a tiny member that he put into my sweating cunt, but he employed it manfully and I realized Thompson, the maid, had no mean substitute for a man when she took that precocious little child into her bed.
He was so small that I hardly felt his little penis against the sides of my pussy, but I came after four or five strokes, and then fell to thinking as I lay in a delicious state of lassitude of the other pricks that had entered me.
I was nineteen and it wasn't quite a year since I had first gone wrong, but I had had a fair selection. First, George Reynolds with a long thin sinewy member. I was only judging from the feel of it, for I had been too shy that first night to properly examine it. But I remember he was a quick and frequent spender.
Then Walker Bird's chubby little tool, that took a great deal of agitation before his blasé majesty would be persuaded to pour out its balm.
Mr. Annesley was of the long and slim order, and curiously shaped—bent the wrong way. The four men I had had at Mrs. Clarence's place, that made seven. The artist, eight. Mr. Edgar with his clean shaven stomach, the poet with his truly gigantic member, ten. Then on tour before I began living with Jean, was Restall of course, the boy at Oxford, the fat brewer at Manchester, the Scotch whiskey merchant at Glasgow, and the comedian at Edinburgh (with, of course, the waiter there) that brought the list up to sixteen.
Then Jean, most hallowed of memories, even though he had been a blackguard to me—Lewis and now this little chit of a page boy. I decided to count him and the baffled comedian at half each, and so
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brought the number up to twenty; what a record for a little girl of my age; the daughter of a reverend parson, too!
Well, in the midst of my sweet recollection of the penises enjoyed in the past, I was brought to a proper consciousness of the work in hand by the plunges of my little lover. "I'm going to spend," he piped into my ear and that he did with delightful spasms and ecstatic exclamations of joy. What he put into me was no Niagara but I must say I enjoyed it very much.
I made him wait on me, go downstairs stark naked as he was, to fetch hot water. I lay open-legged on the cork mat by the washstand while he washed my parts.
Then I made him sit in the armchair, naked as he was, while I lay on the bed, as we talked. It was amusing to watch his shrunken member give sudden starts of animation as I made the conversation more indelicate.
Of course to make him naughty again, I questioned him about the former times he had done this, and really the little rascal had had an uncommonly festive time for his age and knew quite a lot. He wanted to make love to me, tell me he worshipped me, but I let him know that I was making use of him as a servant.
In fact, I thought it better to close his mouth by making a definite arrangement. It was as follows: "As long as I find that you are perfectly discreet over this," I said, "I will give you ten shillings every time I want you, and will recommend Mr. Lewis to increase your wages. Should you dare tell Thomson or any of the other servants, I will be sure to hear of it and out you go!"
Of course he protested that he didn't want the money, but I had made him bring me my purse and take a sovereign from it. By that time I was ready for more and I noticed the kid was too. I took his penis in my hand and it thrilled with life. The only thing that bothered me was exactly what to do with him. I didn't want the boy to fuck me in the
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manner of the majority of men. I lay with him on the floor, on the fur rug which I always preferred to a bed for fucking purposes, and we fingered each other's parts. I thought of sucking the boy but I didn't want that, and another and wickeder idea began gradually to grow on me. I remembered the time that Jean had tried to get into me by way of my other aperture and failed, owing to the size of his member. Now it occurred to me as I looked at the diminutive member that this one should be able to make a way into me with ease.
Still, I wanted to suck the boy too, and I would prefer to do that before he operated on me. The question was whether after the sperm had been drawn from him by experienced lips and tongue, would he be able to get another erection sufficient to encounter the natural resistance which my virgin back passage would be sure to offer.
I had half turned on top of him, was feeling his thumb of love—a pleasant expression that, and one I was unacquainted with until I took to reading Walt Whitman.
"You ignorant girl!" interrupts Gladys, "the letter press to the old bawdy drawings, to Rowlandson's especially, are full of that expression."
I confess my ignorance and proceed.
Well, I was feeling the boy, bending over him, with my lips close to his penis, and the little bugger was fidgeting about randily, and I thought it best to question him on his state of manhood.
"How many times can you do it?" I asked him point blank.
"Oh, lots," he answered, "at any rate three more."
I hardly believed in three more, but the boy seemed so confident. And then, how to suggest the thing became a puzzler—but I determined to leave it till after I had given him my tongue.
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"Did any one ever do this to you before?" I asked, looking into his eyes after I had run my tongue round the tip of his penis—the foreskin closed right up round it, leaving only a tiny bit of the bare head visible.
"No, that is, never a girl. But we used to do it at school."
That reassured me a little; if he had played around with other boys, it was possible he understood the game of entering through the back door.
I pulled back his foreskin and slipped my lips over the bulb of his penis. How the kid enjoyed it; I had certainly never done the sucking act so nicely to any one before, and when at last I tasted his spend, I knew he had come a good deal more into my mouth than he had before in my cunt.
I swallowed it, remembering the saying of one of our chorus girls that a draught of a young boy's spend was the best thing possible for the voice, and the whiskey and soda I took afterwards gained an added pleasure from the taste of the semen in my throat.
After that I judged it best to have supper to keep us going and I was about to send my little naked messenger downstairs to forage when I heard the back door bang. It was obviously the return of Thomson, so telling the boy to hide himself behind the curtains, I slipped on a dressing gown and went downstairs myself.
It was Thomson with a vengeance, for when I came through the half open door of the kitchen I found that young woman recumbent on the floor with an elongated soldier hard at work on top of her. Evidently my house was in a nasty mood that night.
"Thomson!" I cried indignantly. The soldier jumped up and awkwardly tried to replace a swollen penis in his tight trousers; Thomson simply looked an idiot. I waited till the man had beaten a hasty retreat and then feeling that I had been rather selfish, burst into a loud laugh.
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"I'll forgive you," I said to the abashed girl, "only you should have made less noise coining in."
She got some supper and wine on a tray and I carried it myself to my bedroom. I think she fancied I had a man with me and might therefore take liberties herself, for I distinctly heard the door go again and could have sworn the soldier came back.
The supper and champagne revived the boy. As for myself I had never felt better in my life.
We finished a bottle, then I attacked him passionately, covering him with kisses and toying with his body. As a sort of preliminary overture I put my finger in his hole and was surprised to find that the tip went easily in. Then I guided his little ramrod downwards from my cunt to the other door and rubbed its tip against the place. "I can't take you in the ordinary way again," I said. "I'm too sore; you must try the other way."
He was nothing loath. I turned over and knelt, and then the little devil showed he knew all about such things by asking in his pretty treble voice if I had any Vaseline.
I told him where to get it and he anointed himself and me. Then he pressed his tip into that difficult door. The sensation was lovely. When the stiff little head was only partially into my back door, I experienced the most extraordinary feeling of lustfulness. The pushing aside of those stiff membranes was joy. There came a moment of pain as the tip was forced quite in, but when I had that inside of me the pain quickly ceased, and I took his cock in there as easily as I had done in my other place.
The physical sensation was something utterly strange and new. I had an intense local joy, but in addition an excitement of my vagina, and indeed of my whole body and brain, that threw me into an extraordinary fervour.
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He got it all in and I could feel the jets of his spend right up in my bowels. He had his fingers pushed up into my vagina and I spent simultaneously with him.
After it was over I must say I felt rather ashamed. I would not let him see it and cuddled him into my arms on the rug. In each other's arms we fell into the stupid sleep that follows sexual repletion.
Lewis came back two days afterwards—in the meantime I had renewed my intimacy with the boy, as Lewis was very busy. He was forming a new syndicate and was constantly from home, and I was afraid I made use of the pretty page boy rather often.
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