Juliette

by Marquis de Sade

  “Let us dine, Juliette,” said my friend, “you can finish your sermon over dessert.” Then, opening the door to an adjoining room, “There,” she went on, “are your possessions, your servants, there is your Sbrigani; be all of good cheer in this house, become its friends, and when you have gone away from here, make it known abroad that the charms of sweet amity have their faithful even in a den of crime and depravity.”

  A magnificent meal was awaiting us. Sbrigani and my women sat down beside us; my valets joined my friend’s in serving the dishes and pouring the wine; and we were soon all one happy family. It was eight o’clock in the evening when we rose from the table. Brisatesta never left it before he was drunk; it appeared to me that his beloved wife had adopted the same failing. From the dining hall we passed into a larger salon where our hostess suggested we twine the myrtle of Venus to the vine leaves of Bacchus.

  “This bugger here has the look of a man with something in his breeches,” said she, pulling Sbrigani to a couch. “Brother, peep under Juliette’s skirts, you’ll find she is favored in the way you appreciate.”

  “Oh, God,” I cried, my head beginning to reel also, “to be fucked by a highway robber, by an assassin!”

  And I was not done speaking when I was bent over a sofa by the outlaw, a prick as thick as my arm was already nudging between my quivering buttocks.

  “Fair angel,” the libertine said, “you will pardon a little preliminary rite without which, well standing as you see my prick to be, it would nonetheless be impossible for me to do your charms the profound homage they deserve; I shall be obliged to bloody this gorgeous ass, but trust my skill, you’ll hardly feel a thing.”

  Catching up a steel-tipped martinet wherewith he dealt my behind a dozen whistling blows, he had laid open that entire part of me inside two minutes, without causing me anything like a disagreeable sensation.

  “That should do very nicely,” said the Captain, “my thighs shall be wet as they press against you, and my prick lodged deep in your bowels will perhaps wash them with a dense sperm, unobtainable save through this ceremony.”

  “Lay on, brother, lay on!” called Clairwil from the midst of her fucking with Sbrigani, “her ass has weathered the worst, we used often to wear whips out upon each other.”

  “Oh, sir!” I cried upon feeling the Captain’s outsized bludgeon thunder into my rectum, “the lash was as nothing to this….”

  But my protest came too late, Brisatesta’s monstrous engine had already struck rock-bottom; I was embuggered to the hilt. Others were imitating us: Clairwil, as was her custom, offering only her rear to her fucker, was solidly run on by Sbrigani’s spirited device, while Raimonde, frigging her clitoris, was bestowing the same voluptuous services to her that I was extracting from Elise.

  Oh, friends of mine, this bandit chief, what a fucker was he! Not so much attached to the one shrine where I at first thought his tastes would hold him fast, he alternately repaired to each of them and by that dual intromission the rascal kept me in constant discharge.

  “There it is, Juliette,” said he as he withdrew and couched his enormous member between my bubs, “the explanation and cause of all my wild ways and delinquencies; it is the pleasures I receive from this fine prick that have shaped my career; as is the case with my sister, crime heats me, and I am unable to loose a drop of fuck save through the plotting or enacting of some horrors.”

  “Why then, for sweet fuck’s sake let us create a few of them,” I replied. “Since we are all animated by the same desire and the opportunity for satisfying it is probably within our grasp, let’s blend bloodshed and fuckshed. Have you no victims about?”

  “Ah, slut,” said Clairwil, overtaken by a spasm, “I recognize you in those words, they are your hallmark. Come now, brother, let us please this charming creature, we’ll immolate the Roman belle we arrested this morning.”

  “Right you are, have her brought up; her death will amuse Juliette, we shall all frig and discharge while conducting the operation.”

  The traveler arrives. Friends, will you guess the identity of the woman who now stands within my sight? Borghese, yes, she, the delicious Borghese; the sensitive Borghese; brokenhearted at my departure, life had lost all meaning for her, she had flown forth in search of me, and Brisatesta’s men had just taken her on the Naples road as they had taken me the day before.

  “Clairwil,” I exclaimed, “this woman’s not for victimizing either, she is an accomplice, she is the friend who assumed the place you had occupied in my heart, to the extent that another could replace you there; treat her lovingly, my angel, the rascal is deserving of us.”

  And the heavenly Olympia kissed me, caressed Clairwil, and seemed to implore Brisatesta.

  “Oh, Godsfuck,” muttered the latter, erected like a Carmelite, “this complication of adventures, heating in me desires to fuck this lovely lady, cool me to other projects; first let’s fuck her, then we’ll decide her fate.”

  I surrender my post to Olympia; her nobly formed ass receives the wide praise it deserves. Using the same means he employed with me, Brisatesta makes the same artistic shambles of it and sodomizes it straight off and tempestuously. My women frig me, and Sbrigani goes on rasping Clairwil. For once no other stimulant is needed to rouse our spirits; Brisatesta lines us up in a row, all five on our hands and knees upon a sofa and our flanks nicely lifted: Sbrigani and he plumb us turn by turn, while one ass-fucks the other fucks cunt, and the scoundrels finally discharge, Sbrigani in Clairwil’s fundament, Brisatesta in Olympia’s.

  Some more decent behavior succeeded these pleasures. Borghese, newly emerged from a dungeon, also needed a bite to eat; she was served a supper and we went to bed. After breakfast the following morning, the reunion of a Parisian petite maîtresse with a bandit chieftain in the wilds of Italy still seemed so surprising to us all that we begged the Captain to relate what promised to be a very unusual story.

  “I shall tell it if you like,” Brisatesta consented; “but it includes details rather more scandalous than those one would ordinarily hazard in company; your manners, however, vouch for your philosophy and I believe there is nothing I need keep from your hearing.”

  BRISATESTA’S STORY

  If modesty still had any habitation in my soul, I would surely hesitate to disclose my eccentricities; but having long ago arrived at that degree of moral corruption where one is safe from all shame, not the slightest scruple prevents me from confiding to you all down to the least and seamiest events of a life which, summed up in a phrase, amounts to a tissue of crime and execration. The gracious personage you see at my side, and who bears the title of wife to me, is that and my sister also. We are both the children of that famous Borchamps, renowned not only for his concussions but for his wealth and libertinage as well. My father had just entered into his fortieth year when he married my mother, twenty years his junior and much richer than he; I was born before the marriage was a year old. My sister Gabrielle came into the world six years later.

  I was turning sixteen, my sister ten, when Borchamps apparently decided that henceforth he alone would be in charge of my upbringing; we had been away at school, we were now fetched home. And to return under the paternal roof was to be restored as it were to life; the little we had learned of religion my father helped us now to forget, and the most agreeable talents he taught us instead replaced the gloomy obscurities of theology. We were soon to notice that my mother was in no wise pleased by such proceedings. Mild-tempered, gently bred, innately pious and virtuous, she was far from imagining that the principles our father was inculcating in us were someday to make for our happiness; and full of her little notions, she interfered as best she could in her husband’s enterprises, who while mocking her and sneering at her objections, went on notwithstanding to destroy not only all there was in us of religion’s principles but those of morality also. The most inviolable bases of what is popularly understood as natural law were likewise reduced to rubble; and this amiable father, in his eagerness that w
e become as thoroughly philosophical in our outlook as he, left no stone unturned in his effort to render us impassive before prejudices and insensible to remorse. To forestall the possibility of these maxims suffering contradiction, he took care to keep us well isolated from the world outside. Only the occasional visit of one of his friends, and of that friend’s family, ever mitigated our lonely retirement; the intelligence of the sequel requires that I now say something of this worthy individual who would pay us visits.

  Monsieur de Breval, forty-five years of age at the time, nearly as wealthy as my father, like him had a young and virtuous wife and, like him, a pair of charming children, one of whom, his son Auguste, was fifteen and the other, Laura, a truly stunning creature, almost twelve. Each time Breval came to our house he brought his wife and children along; we four youngsters would be put together under the supervision of a governess named Pamphylia, she being twenty, very pretty, and perfectly in my father’s good graces. All four being raised in the same manner, having identical information and attitudes, the conversations we had and the games we played were well in advance of our years; and truly, anyone eavesdropping upon our conventicles would have sooner taken them for meetings of a philosophical circle than for the recreations of juveniles. By dint of being made familiar with Nature we were shortly lending an ear to her voice, and the extraordinary thing is that it did not inspire us to mingle. Each remained within the bonds of kinship; Auguste and Laura were in love, confessed their sentiments with the same candor, the same joy, as Gabrielle and I declared ours to each other. Incest does not cross Nature’s plans, since the first natural impulses we had were in that direction. There is this too which may seem remarkable: our young ardors were accompanied by no twinges of jealousy. This ridiculous feeling is no proof of love; begot of pride and selfishness, it is more a token of the fear of seeing another object preferred to oneself than to that of losing the object one adores. Although Gabrielle might be fonder of me than of Auguste, she embraced him no less warmly for that; and although I might worship Gabrielle, I did nonetheless conceive violent desires to be loved by Laura. Thus did six months go by without us combining any earthly element into this soulful metaphysics; ’twas not willingness that we lacked, but instruction, and our fathers, who were keeping a watchful eye upon us, at last decided to lend their aid to Nature.

  One day when the weather was very warm and our elders, as was their wont, had forgathered to spend a few hours among themselves, my father, half-naked, came to find us and he proposed that we move from the nursery into the apartment where he and the other adults were; we accompanied him, the young governess following on our heels. And there, fancy our surprise at seeing Breval on top of my mother, and his wife the next instant underneath my father.

  “Pay close attention to this mechanism of Nature,” our young Pamphylia said to us, “study it well, your parents may soon be disposed to initiate you into these mysteries of lubricity both for your education’s and your happiness’ sake. Examine each of these groups; you observe that they who compose them are enjoying the pleasures of Nature; apply yourselves to imitating them….”

  Upon all this we bent the stare of open-mouthed bewilderment, this being the usual effect such a spectacle has upon children’s minds; but a keener interest took hold of us by and by, and we went forward to view matters from nearer on. It was then we perceived the difference in the four actors’ situations: the two men were taking manifest pleasure in what they were about, while the two women seemed not to have their heart in the game and even showed what looked like repugnance for it. Pamphylia demonstrated, explained, pointed things out, and identified them by name.

  “Retain it all carefully,” said she, “for you shall soon be put into action.”

  She then entered into the most extensive details. There came a momentary pause in the scene, but one which, instead of reducing its interest, enhanced its attractiveness. Leaping hotly away from Madame de Breval’s behind (for those gentlemen ass-fucked only), my father drew us toward him and had each of the four of us touch his member, showing us how it was to be frigged. We laughed, we gaily did as we were told, and Breval watched us while continuing his buggery of my mother.

  “Pamphylia,” my father said, “relieve them of their clothes; it is time to join a little practice to the theory of Nature.”

  The next instant, we are naked; Breval drops what he is in the middle of doing, and the two fathers fall to caressing us indiscriminately, fingering us and sucking us here and there and everywhere, without forgetting Pamphylia, whom the rascals fondle and kiss almost to pieces.

  “What an atrocity!” cried Madame de Breval, “how does one dare behave in such a way with one’s own children?”

  “Silence, Madame,” her husband shouted at her; “confine yourselves, both of you, to the passive roles you have been allotted; you are here to be made use of, not to harangue us.”

  Thereupon returning quietly to work, the libertine and his colleague continued their examinations just as phlegmatically as if in this height of impurity there were nothing that could justify the two mothers’ feelings of outrage.

  The sole object of my father’s fervent attentions, he appeared to be neglecting all the others in favor of me. Gabrielle, if you wish, did indeed interest him too; he kissed her, he frigged her; but his most impassioned caresses were all aimed at my youthful charms. I alone seemed to inflame him; I alone received that voluptuous caress of the tongue in the ass, sure sign of a man’s predilection for another man, certain gage of the most refined lust, and which true sodomites are loath to lavish upon women, from fear of the appalling disgust the environs expose them to; now ready for anything, my father steers me to the couch where my mother is lying, places me flat upon her belly, has me held there by Pamphylia who, naked pursuant to his orders, during the operation gives him the world’s prettiest ass to handle. His lips moisten the spot he wishes to penetrate; once he considers the outer gates sufficiently ajar, his engine arrives before the portal of the temple … thrusts … pushes … passes in … drives far, and depucelates me with ecstatic effects.

  “Good my Lord,” shrieked my mother, “oh, what manner of horrors are these! Was your son made to be the victim of your libertinage, and are you not at all aware that what you have just done bears the stamp of two or three crimes, for the least of which there are gallows raised?”

  “Eh, but, Madame,” was my father’s dry retort, “’tis precisely what you tell me that is going to make me discharge the more deliciously. You have nothing whatever to fear, the boy is at a very fit age to endure these mediocre assaults, it could easily have been done four years ago, and ought to have been: I depucelate far younger children in the same manner every day. I have every intention of soon doing the same to Gabrielle, even though she is but ten: my prick is slender, thousands will tell you so, and as for my skill, it is incredible.”

  Be all that as it may, blood seeps from my wounds; floods of sperm stanch it, my father grows calmer, continuing, however, to caress my sister who takes my place after I have been dismissed.

  Meanwhile, Breval was not wasting his time; but being more enamored of his daughter than of his son, it is upon Laura he first opens fire and the little thing, likewise placed upon her mother’s bosom, has just seen her maidenhead blasted.

  “Fuck your son,” my father calls to him, “I am going to embugger my daughter: let them all four slake our brutal thirsts this day. The time has come to have them enter into the one role Nature assigned them to play; it is time they realize that it is only to serve as our whores they were born, and that were it not in the hope of fucking them, we might never have created them at all.”

  The two sacrifices are offered simultaneously. To the right one sees Breval depucelating his son while kissing his wife’s asshole and palpating his daughter’s buttocks, still slimed with his fuck; to the left, my father bum-fucking Gabrielle while he licks my behind, while he molests my mother’s with one hand and frigs Pamphylia’s anus with the other;
both gentlemen discharge, and quiet is restored.

  The remainder of the evening is devoted to giving us lessons. We are married; my father mates me to my sister; Breval does the same with his children. They excite us, prepare avenues, consolidate junctions; and while they have us thus linked front to front they sound our asses, now this ass, now that, taking turns; in such a manner that Breval would be buggering me while Borchamps was fucking Auguste, and while all this was going on, the two mothers, constrained to participate in the celebration of the orgies, would, along with Pamphylia, be making broad display of their charms to the two libertines. A number of other lubricious scenes follow that one: my father’s imagination was limitless. Messieurs place the children upon their mothers, and while the husband of one bum-fucks the wife of the other, they oblige us youngsters to frig our mothers. Pamphylia runs up and down the ranks, she cheers the contestants on, emboldens them, shows them the way; her turn comes, she is sodomized; delicious discharging finally pacifies spirits, and festivities are declared at an end.

  Several days later my father summoned me into his library.

  “My friend,” said he, “you alone shall henceforth provide me the joys of my life; I worship you, and wish to fuck nobody else; I am going to send your sister back to her nunnery. She is very pretty, I do not gainsay it, I have received much pleasure from her; but she is female, and that in my view is a serious flaw. Moreover, I could well become disturbed by the pleasures you might taste with her; I want only you beside me. You shall be lodged in your mother’s apartment; she will step down from her place and yield it to you, she has no other choice; we shall lie every night together, I shall spend myself dry in your splendid ass, you shall discharge in mine, we shall be very happy with each other, ’tis certain. Such assemblies as the one at which you were present will be held no longer; Breval is mad about his daughter, and plans to behave with her as I am going to do with you. We shall not cease to be friends; but, too envious of our mutual pleasures, too jealous of our own, we have reached the decision to mingle them no more.”