Chapter IV
The Moorish Lady’s Story
‘Ladies,’ she said, ‘you all know I am three months gone with child. You have now to learn what is equally true. I am a virgin still.’
‘A virgin and with a child,’ they all echoed, several of them crossing themselves as they exclaimed.
‘Listen and you shall hear,’ proceeded Zuleika.
I was purchased from my parents in Fez, where we lived, by a young Moorish merchant. They, as well as myself, were delighted at the prospects which he promised of transferring me to the harem of some great Moorish pasha. The price paid was very high, as I was warranted a virgin. The next morning we joined the caravan for the coast; mounted on my camel I enjoyed the trip in the highest spirits. Ali, my master, rode beside me on a fine horse which he managed with grace and vigour. His person was slender and his features, which were at the same time bold and amiable, captured my fancy. His attentions to my company were unremitting. His tent every night was pitched near my own to guard me from intrusion. The last night that we were on the road I had retired early and was just sinking to sleep as the darkness fell when Ali appeared in my tent.
‘What is your will, my lord?’ I asked. He bent down and kissed me. It was the first time he had done so.
‘My wish is to make you my wife,’ he replied.
‘And why should you not, my lord?’ I asked. Then he told me all his fortune was invested in my purchase and that it would only bring poverty and misery on us both. We mingled our regrets with caresses which grew more and more ardent, until I found myself lying beneath him with my bosom bared to his kisses and my naked thighs parted. Between them I felt a gentle pressure which penetrated the hair and touched the more sensitive lips beneath. I hoped that Ali had determined to marry me. I knew he would if he despoiled me of my virginity, for then my great market value would be gone. I lay passive with my eyes shut. A soft desire ran through my frame centering at the lips where Ali was pressing and making the pressure delightful. The longer he continued in this position the more I wished for a deeper and more satisfying thrust. But the gentle pushes he gave barely parted the outside lips. I could feel that they were stopped by the virgin membrane that barred any further entrance. I grew wild with desire—I strained him to my bosom, and, pressing my mouth to his, I was relieved of a melting thrill. At the same moment I felt Ali’s answering throb and a gush of his sperm penetrated to the depths of my loins, far within the still unbroken curtain of my virginity. For a long time after we lay in a voluptuous but motionless repose.
Then Ali tore himself from my arms. ‘I must go,’ he said, ‘for I cannot resist another such temptation.’
‘It is three months since that sweet but imperfect connection, which it is now certain will result in my being a mother.’
‘And has no man touched you since?’ I asked with deepest interest, as I took the splendid Moorish girl blushing in my lap.
‘I can tell you,’ replied Inez, ‘why the Pasha, who never before suffered a woman to remain a virgin a single night in his harem, has spared her.’
He purchased her from Ali the day the caravan reached its destination. After having her examined by the old woman in his employ, she was brought here, and the same evening as soon as he had finished his supper he threw his handkerchief to her. She retired to receive him in her room alone, as only a virgin in this harem has the privilege of doing, for, as you already know, it is customary for us to receive the Pasha’s embraces when we are all present. I noticed Zuleika looked very reluctant—she was doubtless thinking of Ali, from whom she had so recently parted. I overtook her at the door of the bridal chamber.
‘Let me take your place for tonight,’ said I. ‘We are the same size, and complexions will not show in the dark. The Pasha shall never know.’
‘Can you indeed manage it?’ she asked. ‘If so, you are welcome.’
Then she hurried away and I entered the bridal chamber in her place, undressed, extinguished the light and got into bed. Before a great while the Pasha came. He kissed me on the back of the neck, for I buried my face in the pillow like a bashful girl. Then he hurriedly undressed, and, stretching himself beside me, took me in his arms. My heart was beating violently for the success of my bold scheme, but this agitation he took for virgin fright. I answered in whispered monosyllables to his questions and shrank from every caress he bestowed on my bosom and thighs. He became, as I intended he should, only the more eager. When at length he mounted me, I covered my face with both hands as if in a paroxysm of shame, and wrapping one of my legs over the other, held them tightly together. He had to lie with his thighs parted over mine. In this position he guided his crest between them, which worked its way between the hair and began to enter the tightly squeezed lips beneath.
My passions had become so thoroughly aroused by this time that I could scarcely help opening my thighs and letting him have free entrance. My monthly period was just passing off, in the latter part of which a woman is peculiarly susceptible to desire, but I made him gain his way by the hardest pushing. Not only were my thighs locked, but I tightly contracted the muscles of my sheath at the lips. He would give a fierce but ineffective thrust, then he would squeeze and suck my breasts, until at last my wantonness became uncontrollable and I gave way with a feeling that unnerved me, letting his shaft plunge into the hilt. He spent profusely with a long sigh of triumphant satisfaction. I gave a sigh equally profound; I could not help it. But it only completed his delusion, for he thought it was caused by pain I suffered at the rupture of my maidenhead. He petted and consoled me with kisses and caresses till we were both ready for another embrace. This time he did not expect me to be especially coy at his embrace.
Then he fell asleep. I knew he would awake in the morning with a stiff shaft, so just before dawn I went and took a bath and put on my most seductive apparel, adorned myself with all my jewellery and perfumed myself with musk. Soon I heard him call, ‘Zuleika, Zuleika!’ I hastened to his bedside.
‘Zuleika begs that you will excuse her my lord,’ said I. ‘Pray have some mercy on the poor girl.’ Then I turned down the sheet and exposed the blood stains occasioned by my monthly period.
‘See,’ said I, ‘you have butchered her.’
‘Then you must come to bed with me,’ said he. This was just what I sought and I lost no time in doing so and for the third time I got all I wanted.
Inez ended amid the hearty laughter of the ladies. As for me, I had been caressing Zuleika; her plump bosom, her smooth belly and her grand thighs passed in review under my hand. She concealed her face on my bosom but she made no resistance. Perhaps she no longer thought of Ali. I ventured even to insert my forefinger between the lips which concealed her maidenhead. It stretched from side to side of her entire sheath, save the little orifice that is never closed. She raised her face, which was overspread with crimson blush; her eyes were shut, but her mouth pouted for the kiss which my lips fastened upon it. The voluptuous stories and the wanton situation had done their work upon her. My intrusive finger perceived the throbbing of the lips between which it was inserted. My shaft had become as rigid as bone. The glands clung to the base all ready for action. As soon as Inez finished speaking I laid Zuleika on her back upon the cushions, spread her thighs wide open and mounted her. My crest was at once buried where my finger had lately explored. I gave a push that strained the virgin membrane, but it had the strength which characterized the rest of her splendid physique, and bounded back like India rubber. Her whole form quivered at the touch.
Furious with lust I wrapped my arms around the small of her back and braced my whole strength for another thrust. My crest went plunging in, tore through the curtain of her virginity and rammed against her pregnant womb. ‘Allah! Allah!’ she cried, tossing her arms wildly upwards and rolling her eyes towards heaven. Whether her pain or her pleasure was most exquisite I did not know, but my whole being seemed to centre in my loins and gush into the s
uperb Moor. Then I sank prostrate and exhausted on her bosom with everything gratified.
‘The baby has been fed,’ said Inez, which caused another laugh among the ladies.
‘See Zuleika,’ said another in an alarmed tone, ‘she has fainted.’ Zuleika had indeed become very pale. One gave her a glass of water and bathed her forehead; another took the scarf from her hand and staunched the blood which was flowing from between her thighs. I supported her head on my arm and gave her kisses which before long she began to return.
Then she threw one of her thighs over me to conceal the trace of her wound, saying to the lady who had been using the scarf that she bequeathed it to her.
This lady’s name was Laura, and she was an Italian. It was the same who had melted at the touch of my fingers during the first story. She was about twenty-four and the most fleshy lady in the room. Her immense bosom and buttocks quivered as she moved, but rounded out again in perfect contour when she was still. She had dimples on her cheeks and chin, dimples at her elbows and knees and dimples at her hips. Her features were very pleasing, with a rosy mouth, a saucy retroussé nose and eyes that were dark in expression and shaded by long lashes. She wore her long hair in puffs supported by a tall shell comb—perhaps to add to her height, which was only medium, notwithstanding her enormous weight. Still her waist was not overgrown, and her wrists and ankles were pretty.
‘I think I shall have time to tell a long story,’ she said, glancing ruefully at the diminished little object between my legs. Amid the titters caused by this remark, she seated herself on the opposite side of me from Zuleika, where she could caress my genitals with one of her hands while she proceeded with her story.
Chapter V
The Italian Lady’s Story
I am sorry to confess that I did not possess a maidenhead when I was married. It caused a jealousy and suspicion in my husband’s mind which I could not eradicate. When I was a girl of sixteen at school in a convent, one of my companions handed me an improper book. It contained the amours of the ancient gods and goddesses. They were painted so minutely that it left nothing to be imagined, and it so fascinated me that I at once began it. I retired to my room and bolted my door to devour it undisturbed. I took off my clothes, and, putting on my dressing gown, lay on my bed to read at my ease.
Alone as I was, my cheeks burned at the lascivious descriptions in the book. Then I longed to be in the place of one of the goddesses or nymphs in the wanton adventures. The blood coursed hotly through my veins. I felt the need of something which I never had before, something to quench the seething heat for the first time generated in my loins. I put my hand on the seat of desire; the young hair which grew there had not yet become thick enough to protect the lips beneath from the most casual touch. They grew sensitive under my hands, and, after I read of the rape or seduction of one goddess after another, my fingers slipped in between the lips and, by a gentle movement, afforded me some pleasure.
The motion to be satisfactory had constantly to be increased until I came to the raptures of Venus in the arms of Mars. My wantonness became uncontrollable, a sensation such as was described in the book partially thrilled me, I plunged my fingers in the whole length to complete it, and away went my maidenhead. It hurt me cruelly, but I did not care for that. I knew the irreparable injury which my folly had caused. I was disgusted with my folly and flung the book away. I never put my fingers on that same place again, much less let any man touch me.
One night I told my husband all the pitiful truth, but he was still suspicious. We lived in Naples. He was a professor in the university. He seemed to think of nothing but science. For two or three weeks together he would go to bed with me and rise again without even having put his hand under my chemise, and still more rarely gave me the marital embrace. But I did not suffer myself to care for that. One day I accompanied him on a journey to another town to look for some rare manuscripts of which he had heard. We were going on a lonely road through a forest when a large and gaily dressed brigand stepped from the woods and stopped the horse.
‘Resist at your peril,’ he said, pointing a cocked pistol and leading the horse and vehicle into a lonely side path. When we had got some distance from the main road he stopped and ordered us to get out. He fastened the horse to a tree and then procured some cord from his pocket with which he firmly bound my husband’s hands behind his back; then, having also tied his feet together, he bound him to a tree and searched him for valuables.
‘Now, my fair lady,’ said he, approaching me, ‘it is your turn.’
‘Take my jewellery—it is all I’ve got—and let me go.’
‘Thank you for the present,’ he said, ‘but you have got something else I prize still more.’
Then he put his arm around my waist and attempted to kiss me. I struggled to get free, while my husband alternately cursed and entreated him, but all to no purpose. I tried to get close to my husband, but it only served to make him a nearer witness of what followed.
Suddenly, I was tripped and thrown on the grass with the brigand on top of me. He held both of my hands on the ground above my head with one of his own; with the other he tore open the front of my dress and explored my bosoms, which he rifled with his hand and sucked with his mouth. Then he pulled up the skirts of my dress and petticoat. I redoubled my exertions and even got one of my hands loose; but by this time he had forced open my thighs with his knee and lay between them.
He pinioned both of my hands as before, leaving one of his hands free to get out his shaft and enter it into me. Then every struggle I made seemed to work him in further. I could only sob with rage and shame. The brigand, with his Herculean strength, did his will with me right before my husband’s eyes, who had by this time howled himself hoarse with curses. Angry and mortified, as I was, it began to feel good. To escape this crowning humiliation I made one tremendous effort to get free. I was pinioned to the ground by a fierce thrust of my ravisher, and then I felt the cream of his strength entering my loins.
The sensation almost thrilled me, but his powerful grasp so relaxed that by a great effort I extracted myself from beneath him. I ran to my husband and began untying him, but the brigand seized me by the wrists and dragged me some distance up the pathway. Then he suddenly thrust his hand into my bosom and gave it a parting squeeze, kissed my averted face and let me go. I ran back trembling and sobbing to my husband, whom I unbound as rapidly as possible. He unfastened the horse without saying a word or even helping me into the vehicle and drove home in silent and sullen gloom.
It was too cruel. I had been able to endure his suspicions with regard to the loss of my maidenhead, because it had been the result of my own folly. But this dreadful rape had been committed without any fault of mine. He never afterward lay with me or held me in his embrace, although we continued to live together. A young woman in the bloom of vigour and just well enough initiated with the mysteries of matrimony, I was condemned to celibacy.
Wanton thoughts occupied my mind until my sheath would throb and its lips moisten and swell with desire for hours together. I reverted to the means that had despoiled me of my maidenhead, but I was in a state of constant agitation. My husband suspected me; I determined to give him a cause. It seemed as if no one man could satisfy me now; I longed for an opportunity to give rein to my passions.
At this time a Russian fleet came into the harbour. My sister’s husband was a naval officer in the harbour, and it devolved on him to help entertain the Russian officers. So my sister gave a masked ball to which they were invited. My husband would not go but he made no objections to my attending and staying all night at my sister’s house.
My room opened from the passage that connected the ballroom with the conservatory. I procured a long and ample nun’s robe which covered me from my throat to my toes; it had also a cowl which concealed my head and face. Under this disguise I had the dress—or rather the undress—of a dancing girl; a vest of cloth of gold and a skirt
of the thinnest lawn were absolutely the only articles of which it consisted, besides my stockings and slippers. The vest had no sleeves or shoulders and exposed my bosom clear to the nipples. If I moved quickly the short and gauzy skirt showed my naked thighs. As soon as the guests began to mingle on the floor I touched the arm of a stalwart Russian officer; he, like all the other guests, was masked, but I knew he was a Russian by his fair hair.
‘Follow me,’ I whispered. We entered the passageway described, and finding it clear I led him to my room.
‘What a dainty bower!’ he said in French. ‘Will its sweet-voiced occupant be pleased that we both unmask?’
He removed his mask and disclosed one of those ruddy countenances with bright eyes and fair hair which always so bewitch an Italian lady. I flung back my nun’s disguise and stood revealed to him in the costume of a lascivious young dancing girl. The young Russian seemed to admire my dark Italian complexion as much as I admired his northern hue. He knelt and kissed my hand.
‘Can you pity a bride,’ said I, ‘whose husband neglects her?’ A flush of pleasure crossed the officer’s face which made my looks seek the floor.
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