Juliette

by Marquis de Sade

  “Eh? Godsfuck! see, they’re stiff erect,” cried the tempestuous Delbène, “they’re aloft, resurrected, these divine pricks I’ve been palpating while addressing you. Behold, they’re hard as steel, and my ass covets them. Come, good friends, come fuck my ass, this insatiable thirsty ass of mine; into the utmost depths of this libertine ass spill fresh jets of-sperm which, if such a thing be possible, will cool the burning ardor consuming my entrails. Hither, Juliette, I want to cunt-suck you while our wights embugger me; squatting over your visage, Volmar will present her charms to you, you’ll lech them, you’ll sup on them while with your right hand you pollute Flavie and with your left you give Laurette’s buttocks a smart spanking.”

  The play is staged, Delbène’s two lovers sodomize her in turn. Awash with Volmar’s fuck, mine runs very abundantly into the Superior’s mouth, “and at last the time comes to turn our attentions to deflowering Laurette.

  Appointed to the high priestess’ role, I am fitted out with an artificial member. It is a great-sized thing: the cruel Abbess has ordered me to don the massiest in the arsenal; and here is a description of the at once lubricious and ungentle scene that followed:

  Laurette occupies the center of the stage. Motionless, she reposes upon a tall stool: beneath her buttocks is a hard cushion, her position is horizontal, only her behind is supported. Her widely spread legs are so maintained by cords fastened to rings sunk in the floor; her arms, flung over her head and outward, are similarly fixed. This attitude places the strait and delicate part of the victim’s body in the most admirable situation to be penetrated by the glaive. Seated before her is Télème, who is to hold up her pretty head … and to exhort her to patience; and this idea of putting her into the confessor’s keeping, quite as if she were about to be decapitated, infinitely amuses the cruel Delbène, whose passions, I see, are as ferocious as her tastes appear to be libertine. While I depucelate the cunt of this Agnes, Ducroz is to embugger me. There is an altar in the room; it stands next to and dominates that other altar upon which the little lass is going to be immolated, and it will serve as a couch to our voluptuous Abbess. ’Tis as she reclines there between Volmar and Flavie that the rascal is going lewdly to savor both the thought of the crime she is having committed and the delicious spectacle of its consummation.

  Before stoppling my ass, Ducroz busies himself readying the terrain for the aggression I am about to commit; he moistens the borders of Laurette’s vagina and anoints my weapon with an oily preparation which enables it to coast in almost at once. However, it provokes some truly awesome stretching and tearing: Laurette’s not yet ten years old and my lance must be eight inches in its circumference and a dozen long. The encouragement proffered to me, the irritated state I am in, the great desire I have to carry out this libertine act, everything combines to make me put as much zeal into this operation as might the most energetic lover. The engine penetrates, but the torrents of blood that leap from the bursting hymen, the victim’s lusty screams, all these are indicative that the enterprise is not unaccompanied by its perils; the poor little thing’s hurt, far from being negligible, consists in a wound of such gravity as to make one feel some concern for her life. Ducroz, aware of the possibilities, glances toward the Abbess; she, being voluptuously frigged by her confederates, nods, and that is the signal to continue.

  “The bitch is ours!” she cries; “don’t let’s spare her. I am not answerable to her, no, nor to anyone, I do as I please!”

  You will readily conceive how these utterances emboldened me. Be sure of it, the woe occasioned by my clumsiness and by that unwieldy machine only made me ply it in a livelier style: now the whole affair is engulfed, Laurette swoons, Ducroz buggers me, and Télème, enchanted, frigs his device upon the fair visage of the stricken child whose head he grips between his thighs….

  “Madame,” says he to Delbène, the while rubbing his prick, “a certain individual here has need of succor—”

  “’Tis of fuck she’s in need,” the Abbess retorts, “yes, fuck’s all the treatment I’ll have given the bitch.”

  I continue to grind away, electrified by Ducroz’ prick, it is only a quarter of an inch from being entirely engaged in my asshole; I deal as severely with my victim as I am being dealt with myself. Ecstasy overtakes all of us at virtually the same instant. The three tribades sprawled on the altar discharge like a battery of mortars while along the length of the dildo I’ve buried in Laurette my own sperm trickles, while Ducroz fills my anus with his, and while Télème mixes his own with the victim’s tears, for he has just ejaculated all over her face.

  Our weariness, the necessity of reviving Laurette if we want to extract further pleasure from utilizing her, all this obliges us to bestow a little attention upon her. She is unbound; surrounded, slapped, pummeled, pinched, fiddled over, Laurette soon shows a few signs of life.

  “Well, what’s the matter with you?” Delbène uncharitably inquires; “are you then such a feeble thing that so mild an attack sends you nigh to the doors of hell?”

  “Alas, Madame, I can bear no more,” protests the poor bedraggled little girl whose blood is still flowing copiously; “I’ve been sore hurt, I’m going to die—”

  “Not so fast,” the Superior said laconically, “patients a good deal younger than you have successfully weathered these same assaults, we’ll carry on.”

  And without other precautions being taken than to stanch her blood, Laurette is tied anew, and this time she lies upon her belly instead of on her back; her asshole comfortably within range, Delbène and her two aides installed upon the altar again, I ready myself to attack by another breach.

  Nothing can equal the luxurious manner in which Delbène was having herself masturbated by Volmar and Flavie. The latter, stretched out upon Madame Delbène, was giving her cunt to be sucked while frigging her mistress’ clitoris and tickling her nipples; Volmar, a little farther down, was manipulating the lusty Abbess’ asshole, into which she’d dug three of her fingers; every part of that slut’s body was being submitted to pleasure, and throughout it all her gaze was fixed upon what I was about. She exhorted me to get on with the affair. So I presented myself. This time ’tis Télème who’s to embugger me while I am sodomizing Laurette; and Ducroz is to prepare this introduction and to frig my clitoris at the same time. The difficulties are formidable, they look insurmountable; already two or three times repulsed, my instrument either strikes awry or slips astray, despite my guidance, niching itself in Laurette’s cunt again, and this accident is not unattended by further distress to the unlucky victim of our libertinage. Delbène, losing patience at these delays, bids Ducroz blaze the trail by himself embuggering the lass, and, you understand, this commission is not displeasing to him. Less awesomely proportioned that the bowsprit I’m wearing, steadier with a tool that’s more securely attached to him than mine is to me, the libertine has lodged himself the next instant deep in the maid’s ass; he harpoons a virginal turd, fetches it out, is about to enter again and spray fuck about the cavity when the Abbess orders him aside and summons me to resume operations.

  “Sweet Jesus!” says the Abbot, drawing out his prick all glistening with lust and all sullied with dark proof of his victory, “ah, doublefucked Jesus, very well. As you say; but I’m bent on revenge. Give me Juliette’s ass instead.”

  “No,” says Delbène who, in spite of the pleasures wherewith she is besotting herself, is nonetheless paying keen attention to ours, “no, my Juliette’s ass belongs to Télème, he’s the one who’s to enjoy it this time and I’ll brook no infringement upon his rights. But, you great scoundrel, since you’re so bloody fucking stiff, go bury your stave in Volmar’s hungry bum. Eh, do you see the thing? Embugger this superb wench here, I tell you, stuff her ass and she’ll frig me the merrier.”

  “Godsfuck, yes!” Volmar exclaims, “come here, mark this asshole, get inside, bugger, be quick about it, I’ve never had greater need of a sodomizing.”

  The persons of the drama take their places, the c
urtain rises upon a new act. The breach already blasted in Laurette allows my instrument relatively easy access, a minute later and the poor little dear feels it lodged deep in her anus. Therewith she redoubles her weeping and wailing, her screams are dreadful; but Télème, having gained a solid foothold in my ass, and Delbène, swimming in fuck, both give me such lusty encouragement that Laurette soon experiences hindwise what not long before I made her feel frontwardly: blood streams, and a second time the child faints away. ’Tis at this point Delbène’s ferocious character becomes very manifest.

  “Don’t slacken—go on! go on!” cries she, upon seeing me about to retire; “have we discharged yet? We have not! Keep at it till then, hear?”

  “But she’s dying,” say I.

  “Dying? Dying? Nonsense, pure histrionics, all a comedy. And if ’tis so? Eh then? One whore more or less—do you think it matters to me? The bitch is here to entertain us and, by fuck! entertain us she shall!”

  My resolve fortified by this Megaera, and not being anyhow much inclined to weak-spirited sentiments of commiseration wherewith Nature did not overly well provide me, I set to work again and keep at it until the signal for a legitimate retreat is given by the unequivocal evidence of a general pandemonium whose din I soon hear coming from all sides; I’ve already had my third emission by the time I quit my post.

  “Let’s have a look at all this,” says the Abbess, stepping up to Laurette. “Is the life gone out of her?”

  “Oh, la! She’s no worse off than when the fun began,” Ducroz says chidingly, “and if you doubt it, a stout re-encunting from me will bring her around in a trice.”

  “Better yet, we’ll administer the treatment jointly,” Télème proposes. “While I embugger her, Delbène will frig my asshole and I’ll mouth Volmar’s; Juliette can likewise socratize Ducroz and he’ll put a diligent tongue to Flavie’s cunt.”

  Approved, the project is put into execution; and the rapid movements of our two fuckers, their impetuous lust, quickly bring the sorely beset Laurette back to her senses.

  “My best beloved,” I then inquire of the Abbess, whom I draw aside, “however shall you repair all the damage that’s just been done?”

  “That which you’ve sustained shall be very soon, my angel,” Delbène answered, “tomorrow, I’ll massage you with an ointment that so wonderfully restores their whole order to things that afterward no one would ever guess they’d been exposed to rude usage. As for Laurette—have you forgotten that ’tis generally believed she fled the convent? She’s ours, Juliette. She’ll not reappear in the world.”

  “What are you going to do with her?” I wondered, much mystified.

  “Make her the victim of our lewdness. Dear Juliette I you are yet so very much a novice. Do you still not understand that the only serious ones are the criminal excesses? and that the more horror one enwraps pleasure in, the more charming pleasure becomes?”

  “Truthfully, my dear, I can make nothing of what you say—”

  “Have patience then. You shan’t have long to wait ere all comes clear. But now, let’s have some supper.”

  The company removes to a little room adjacent to the salon where the orgies have been celebrated. Here, spread upon tables, is a profusion of dainties, the rarest delicacies in meat, wine of the very best. We take our places … Laurette serves us! I soon remarked, from the manner the group adopted with her, by the harsh tone in which she was addressed, that the poor little wretch was considered nothing more than a victim whose doom was already sealed. The merrier spirits grew, the worse she was treated; there was nothing our youthful waitress did that wasn’t rewarded by a pinch or a tweak, a slap or a blow; and if she was remiss, however slightly inattentive to instructions, she was often more severely punished yet. I’ll not linger, kind reader, over the doings and utterances which distinguished that lavish bacchanal; be content to know that, for horror, for foulness, they equaled the worst I’ve since seen by way of the utmost in libertinage.

  Down there, the air was very warm, we women were nude; the men were in the same disorder and, mixed in amidst us, were with complete unrestraint giving themselves over to whatever of the filthiest and most crapulous their delirium could egg them into undertaking. Wrangling over my ass, Télème and Ducroz looked about to come to blows in their efforts to obtain its use; supine beneath the pair of them, I was quietly awaiting the contest’s outcome when Volmar, drunk already and in her drunkenness more lovely than Venus, seized the two pricks and started to frig them into a bowl of punch, all this, she explained, because she wanted fuck to drink.

  “Let’s have an end to this,” said the Abbess, almost as lightheaded as the others about her, for wine had been flowing very freely, “I’m against it unless Juliette agrees to piss into the mixture—”

  I piss; the tureen goes from hand to hand, the whores all drink their fill, the men do the same and, the riot being at its apogee, the extravagant Abbess, at a loss what to invent next to reawaken desires her libertinage has foundered in exhaustion, announces that she wants to go to the vault where the mortal remains of the women of the house repose, that she wants to find the coffin of one of those her jealous rage brought lately to destruction, that she wants to have herself given five or six thumping fuckings upon her victim’s corpse. The idea stirs the company; we get to our feet, we locate the spot, candles are set upon the coffins ranged round that of the young novice whom three months previously Delbène had poisoned, after having idolized her. The infernal creature lies down upon that sepulcher and, baring her cunt to the two ecclesiastics, she challenges first the one, then the other. Ducroz is the first to ensocket his spar. We were all spectators and our sole employment, throughout this gruesome scene, was to kiss and fondle her, finger her clitoris and submit ourselves to be handled by her. Delirious, Delbène was battening avidly upon these horrors when a dreadful shrill screech was heard, all the candles snuffing out that very instant.

  “My God, what is this!” cried the intrepid Abbess, alone among us all to preserve her courage in the midst of tumult and affright. “Juliette! Flavie! Volmar!”

  But we’re all deaf, struck dumb, no one gives her answer; and were it not for the details our Superior supplied us on the morrow, I, who half-swooned away when it happened, would probably still know nothing of what brought this fracas about. A wood owl hidden in those underground places was the cause of it all; startled by the light to which its eyes were unaccustomed, it had taken flight and its beating wings created a draft that had blown the candles out. When I recovered my wits I found myself in my bed and Delbène, who came to visit me as soon as she learned I was better, told me that after she’d calmed the two men, who’d been nearly as terrified as we, it was with their aid she had transported us to our cells.

  “In supernatural occurrences I have no belief at all,” Delbène asserted. “Never is there an effect without its cause and my first concern, whenever surprised by some effect, is to trace out its cause without delay. I promptly located that of our adventure the other night; the candles lit once again, we, the men and I, just as promptly restored everything to order.”

  “And Laurette, Madame?”

  “Laurette? She’s in the cellars, my sweet. We left her there—”

  “What! Then you—”

  “Not yet. It will be our first piece of business the next time we assemble. She underwent yesterday’s experience more successfully than one might have thought.”

  “Oh, indeed, Delbène, you’re a very debauched thing … a cruel thing—”

  “Now, now, not at all. It’s simply that I’ve got very exigent passions, and that I heed nothing else. And, persuaded as I am that they are the most faithful interpreters of Nature’s will, I heed whatever counsel they give me, and do so with as little fear as remorse or regret. But you look to be whole again, Juliette; get up, my darling, come dine with me in my apartment, we’ll chat together.”