“Lavie, you are a gentleman, and I can trust you, but don’t let it go any further, don’t even tell Jardine, for it may be one of the unhappiest things that can happen to poor Amy, to have the truth known. She was buggered, and completely buggered, too! The blasted Afghan’s prick was buried in her arse as deep as his balls, but he roared at me that he had buggered her and would bugger me too!”
“I thought so,” said Lavie, though fully. “I knew I was right. I am certain it is rupture and not abnormal distention of the sphincter. But I am afraid, Devereaux, that the mischief has been done. Nobody, of course, knew for certain, but everybody in the whole camp believes that Amy was buggered, and the men are ready to kill every Afghan that comes in. You see, too, unfortunately, the lessons you have been giving to the girls came in so handy for a joke. It was young Crean who started it when Jardine said he was not sure but that Amy had been buggered. Says Crean, ‘Then she is B. A., buggered Amy! Oh! ho! Now we can chaff Devereaux and congratulate him on one of his pupils having taken her degree B. A.’”
I must leave it to my readers to appreciate the degree of annoyance this unsavory joke gave me. It was lucky far young Crean that he was not near when I heard this—not that I could have laid hands an him, far I was too weak at the time—but I would have given him a piece of my mind. The good feeling of the officers, however, made them, after the first enjoyment of the joke, drop allusion to it, as naturally they did not care to pain or wound.
It took me nearly three weeks to recover sufficient strength to be able to get up and crawl about. I had lost such an enormous quantity of blood. My delirium had resulted entirely from weakness, not so much from fever, though some have it. I ate like a horse. I never was so continuously hungry as during that time. Amy, whether operated upon or not I don’t know, also got better slowly, and she and I used to sit out in the evenings surrounded by Colonel and Mrs. Selwyn, Fanny and the others, and chat and admire the exquisite beauty of the sunsets over the snowy peaked mountains of Afghanistan, as seen through the lovely and wild Chapie Ghaut. My blood letting had the most cooling effect upon my amorous disposition, and though I had a perfect recollection of the sweet little cunts I had seen, the thought of them affected me no more than if I had been a eunuch. In fact, I mentioned to Lavie that I feared I was done for all fucking in the future, for instead of finding my prick stiff and standing each morning on awakening, as it always had done, it now was limp and perfectly dead. He encouraged me, however, to look upon this as nothing but fancy, for it was due entirely to my weakness consequent upon the loss of blood I had experienced.
Before I was able to quit the almost-home I had at the Selwyns, I received a letter, a most tender, loving letter from my darling Louie, written in the most melancholy strain, describing the terrible loneliness, especially at night, which she experienced now that she had no longer her “adored” husband to fill her arms. And she implored me to say when she might look forward to coming and joining me. I cannot give my readers, tender hearted and passionate as I know they are, any further idea of this letter, but it had a great effect upon me. There could not be a doubt but that Lizzie Wilson’s voluptuous cunt had given my fidelity to Louie a tremendous shock, and I felt sure in my mind that quite near me was a little virgin cunt, between sweet Fanny’s thighs, which longed for me too. I had begun to think that when I was well I would endeavor to raise the hopes of that dear little cunt, but Louie’s letter, without in any way even hinting that I might possibly meet with temptation to stray from the right path, smote my conscience with great force. I resolved I would not tempt her. The more I looked at it the more did I see how vile it would be for me to tempt the sweet girl to sin with me. Fanny was young and as yet pure minded. She had indeed let me see her heart, and I knew it was all my way, but I had not yet said or done anything to draw it nearer to me than it was. I made up my mind I would little by little draw off. Ah! easier said than done! but still I did manage to keep more from her, for I was well enough to go home, and it became a semi-estrangement which was most painful to me, for I did love the manner in which she told me all her thoughts, as though I had been either her betrothed or her brother. But Venus had marked me out as the intended high priest, and Fanny’s maidenhead was foreordained to fall a prize to my stalwart prick.
Of course such a business as it could not be hid under a bushel. When I was well enough an official inquiry was held and briefly, these were the facts which were elicited.
The soldiers were, on arrival at Cherat, warned that if they ever went shooting on the mountain sides, they must never be in parties of less strength than five or six, or more than that in number. If fewer, they might be attacked, if greater, it might alarm the natives who might fear attack. But the whores had deserted, and the only fucking the men could get was such as at the danger of their own lives and those of the obliging women they could from time to time obtain from such females as they found herding goats and cattle. It appeared that two parties of six men each, making a total of twelve, met accidentally at a lonely place in the glen, in which were two fine young Afghan lassies herding some cattle. The offer of a rupee from each man made the maidens joyful and they willingly earned twelve rupees each, for each man had each girl turn about. The girls returned delighted to their village and the Tommies came back to camp much relieved. The promise had been given of more rupees for more fucking, but alas, it never could be fulfilled.
Somehow or other the tribesmen found it out. The inevitable consequence for the poor unfortunate girls was, that after their noses had been cut off, and thus mutilated, they had been paraded before the assembled men, women and children, and then they had been slowly burned to death, and further it was resolved that—these poor girls having been considered to have been virgins—a desperate vengeance should be taken on the English at Cherat. It—was a pity that Mrs. Selwyn should have engaged her Ayah at Peshawar, where she had gone to meet her husband on his return from the war. This Ayah had Afghan blood in her veins and Mrs. Selwyn made a mortal enemy of her by boxing her ears for either some impertinence or slackness of duty. This happened just about the time when the irate tribesmen were looking out for English virgins to rape. Fanny, Amy and Mabel were the only fuckable girls in Cherat, and the Ayah, knowing what was happening, plotted with the tribesmen to give these poor innocents into their hands. She also took the opportunity when Colonel Selwyn had gone to inspect the whores, and the consequences were what I have endeavored to narrate. It goes without saying that that Ayah disappeared and was never heard of again. Only for the fortunate’ circumstance of my having that extreme feeling of uneasiness, the whole three girls would certainly have been raped, buggered and perhaps killed too, as it was, poor Amy was buggered.
It is curious how events hang one upon another; The flight of the Ayah necessitated the hiring of another, and Mrs. Selwyn took, on the recommendation of a lady of Peshawar, a woman whom I felt certain she never would have entertained had she first seen her; for Sugdaya was the most lovely native woman I ever saw. Mrs. Selwyn knew that owing to her own weak health and consequent inability to give the Colonel those satisfying nights of real succulent fucking which keep married men chaste and quiet, a man whose temperament and whose balls must feel desire at times press him immensely. To admit so tempting a piece of flesh as Sugdaya into her house was therefore rash to a degree, but once done it was impossible to undo it. Sugdaya was modest in demeanor, of course avoiding the Colonel, devoting herself to her duty to Mrs. Selwyn and the Misses Baba, and in fact becoming Mrs. Selwyn’s right hand. We shall hear a good deal more of Sugdaya, gentle reader, especially in the series after this.
I visited Peshawar several times after my recovery. In fact, as far as I decently could without making it too marked, I avoided the Selwyn’s as much as possible. I thought the Colonel was glad. He used to seem uneasy at the fondness poor Fanny evinced for me. The poor girl often chided me for being so much of a stranger now, and I found it difficult to collect
myself with her, but I was determined to keep out of her way, and the sweet temptation I once loved so much.
Things therefore wore on and we were getting tired of Cherat, and wondering where we should go, and when, for the Government never left troops there all Winter, and we expected to go to a station on the plains. Mrs. Soubratie’s nose had been much out of joint at the superior charms of Jumali and the eleven other fresh young whores, but she had realized a perfect fortune. Certainly she had made an instant use of her fine cunt, and had lost no opportunity of gathering rupees by the free use of it. But since Jumali’s arrival Cherat had lost much of its attraction for Mrs. Soubratie, and she very often had “pains in her belly,” necessitating whiskey, sugar and water, which during the halcyon days of her fucking she had never asked for.
At last came the longed for orders. We were to start to march in December to Rawal Pindi—take the train there the line having been opened as far as that now, and then proceed to one of the nicest stations in Bengal-Fackabab.
If I had time I should like to describe this march in detail, for marching in India is truly delightful, but I can only tell of two incidents which as the first effected the relations of Colonel Selwyn and myself, and the second raised me to Heaven to immediately push me down into Hell!, I must narrate.
The first night of the march we encamped at Shakkote at the foot of a hill. Lavie and I, who were inseparable, went for a stroll and did not get back to camp until after dark. Going to my tent I met Soubratie outside of it who made me a mysterious sign and told me in a whisper that the Colonel Sahib was asleep on my bed.
Out of curiosity and wondering why he should have chosen my bed instead of his own, I gently and in spite of Soubratie went and peeped. My camp lantern was dimly burning, turned down as low as possible and on the ground, but there was light enough for me to see that the man was on my bed between the thighs of a woman and fucking her deliciously. I could not see their faces, but I could see their bottoms and I did see. such an enormous pair of balls hanging and quite hiding any part of the cunt which might otherwise, perhaps, have been seen when the prick to which they belonged was drawn out of it as far as could be before the next home thrust, that had not Soubratie told me it was the Colonel, I should have guessed it was he. I could not resist it. I went straight in as though I had expected nothing. The poor Colonel looked up, blurted something, and I roared laughing!
“I really were here! I beg your pardon, Colonel! I did not know you never mind, I won’t say a word and I won’t disturb you.” And before he could say anything I left the tent.
By and by out he came. I made as if I didn’t wish to see him, but taking me by the arm he said, “Devereaux, Devereaux, I must offer you a thousand apologies! For God’s sake don’t tell anybody! My dear boy, if your wife were as delicate as mine, you would understand how impossible I find it to go without a woman. Don’t betray me, Devereaux! Don’t! It would kill Mrs. Selwyn! I can’t help it! But she would not understand! Oh! boy, speak!”
“Of course I won’t tell, Colonel. But why on earth do you look at Mrs. Soubratie when you have such a lovely Ayah in Sugdaya?”
“Because, my boy, take my advice. If you ever fuck a woman who is not your wife, don’t let her be one of your own household. Now! see! if you would like to fuck Sugdaya yourself, you are welcome. Would you?”
“My dear Colonel, I am really very greatly obliged, very greatly indeed, but I think I lost too much blood up the hill there to expect to feel the want of a woman before my wife joins me.”
“Well! If you do—you know Sugdaya or any other—remember,” said the Colonel. I am sure he did not intend to include Fanny or Amy in the “any other.”
On the third day of our march we arrived at Nowshera. How my heart beat at seeing the familiar Dak Bungalow, once the very temple of Venus, in which I had officiated as her high priest, and had offered so many sacrifices to her with joy and thanksgiving in her favored shrine between the force of the fair Lizzie Wilson’s voluptuous and beautiful thighs. I was tired with the march; not that the distance we had taken was at all excessive but I had not yet recovered my strength after the tremendous bloodletting at Cherat. Lavie had marched with me. The Colonel and his family, attended by Jardine, had gone ahead, and sat in the very verandah where the struggle between Lizzie and Searles had begun, looking at us—as we marched by with the regiment to the camp ground behind the bungalow, between it and the Cabul river. Fanny had ridden a pony. Amy was not allowed to ride. She and Mrs. Selwyn had each been brought in a Dhooli or palanquin, and Jardine and the Colonel kept Fanny company. In the evening after I had strolled on the banks of the river, from visiting which I had been withheld on my first stay by the superior attractions of Lizzie’s delightful cunt, I got back to my tent where I found Soubratie mounting guard, and he told me with a grin that the “Colonel Sahib there speaking to his woman in Master’s tent.” I went and peeped very quietly and had the felicity of seeing the Colonel without his coat or trousers on, laying beside Mrs. Soubratie, whose fine, fat, brown cunt he was manipulating with his hand, whilst she was grasping those balls of which I have mentioned seeing and their colossal size. . Evidently the interested pair were making ready for a second assault, and soon I saw this accomplished.
The Colonel, evidently, enjoyed himself very much, and judging from the little feminine ripple of laughter which from time to time issued from Mrs. Soubratie, she likewise profited by the nice titillation which her admirer’s very full sized prick was occasioning her. Soon came the vigorous short digs and then the final hard squeeze home, which told me in eloquent silence that the Colonel was inundating the shrine with the oil of his manhood, and then withdrawing his prick from its hot retreat, he lay down panting for a few minutes and after a little while got up and commenced dressing his nether limbs. Had I seen this good performance some weeks earlier, before I had been so disabled by my wounds, I should have been driven nearly frantic, and have had my own prick in such a state of alarming stiffness and fury, that I should probably have waited to see the Colonel safe out of the tent, and then gone in myself and, in spite of Mrs. Soubratie’s big hands, which always spoiled any idea of fucking her that came into my mind at Cherat, where I had at the time no other available cunt, I should have gone in and had a round or two with her, then and there, and worked off the extra effervescence of my feelings. But now! Oh! It was sickening to me! Not a stir came in my prick! Not a ghost of a stand! Not even a ripple!
In deep despair I left the place from which I had been watching the performance and went to Lavie’s tent, where after a little I told him I had just seen a Tommy fucking a woman and that it had had no more effect on me than it would have had on a dog or some other animal whose desires did not lie between a woman’s thighs. Lavie laughed and assured me that I need not despair, that when I had eaten enough food to replace the blood I had lost, I should perhaps find my prick an intolerable nuisance, because being a married man, I could not do as he would under similar circumstances, send for Jumali or another of the twelve, and reduce the dimensions of the implement with her assistance. In fact, he seemed to think nothing of what plagued me day and night, for I was seriously alarmed. No wonder poor Louie complained that my letters were all couched in such a minor key; for all the time I was writing them I was fearing I should never again hear her soft sighs of delighted gratitude as I made her spend and buck under the impulse of my active fucking. I really thought I had become once and forever impotent!
But ah! during the next day, during the next evening, a delightful and most cheerful change, in this respect, came Over me! If any medical man should happen to read this exact narrative of my feelings and history I depict so he win be able to account for it, but I cannot, at least I cannot give scientific reasons, which no doubt he can and will to any inquiring soul. Well, the next morning I got a nice little note from Fanny:
Dear Captain Devereaux:
Mamma wants to know why y
ou are making yourself such a stranger. We have caught hardly even a glimpse of you for a long time now. Will you come and dine with us tonight? It will be an early dinner, at six, because we have to get up early tomorrow morning for the march. Do come! Yours, always affectionately,
Fanny Selwyn.
I sent back a little note accepting, feeling a strange beating of my heart, for Fanny had grown much too dear to me, and the reader knows why I did not cultivate her love more ardently than I did. .
Meanwhile honest Jack Stone had been to see me, and told me that the unfortunate Searles had died of cholera on his way to Bombay. The wretched man had recovered sufficiently to enable the doctors to recommend his going home to England on sick leave, but before he got to Bombay he was attacked by cholera, and had to be put out of the train in a dying condition, and he lies buried at a lonely little station where not even a headstone records who lies buried in the small cemetery. Many poor travelers die in this manner in India, are buried, forgotten and have nothing but the station-master’s book to tell where they sleep their last sleep.
Stone was dreadful anxious that I should not add flame to spreading any reports about Mrs. Searles and her establishment at Honeysuckle Lodge and the reason for this became apparent to me some years later, when I met him and a lady who he introduced to me at Brighton as Mrs. Stone. This lady’s features struck me as being somehow familiar to me, and on racking my brains I remembered they were extremely like those of the naked lady in the photograph he had shown. me on that eventful night when Searles had tried to ravish Lizzie Wilson. The gallant Jack had made Mrs. Searles an honest woman again in the sight of the world, and had gained an equally honest right for himself to fuck her whenever he liked without having to pay five hundred rupees for that grand pleasure. She seemed a fine voluptuous creature with decidedly large, well-formed bubbies, and I dare say old Jack had many voluptuous nights between her voluptuous thighs, fucking her voluptuous cunt, as he had expressed it. Poor old Jack Stone! There are many worse men in the world than he, and I dare say little Mrs. Searles made him as good a wife as many another woman whom he might have married would.
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