“Not so fast, Carleson,” I say as I withdraw, “you must sodomize our two whores, I’ll hold them still for you. First one, then the other.”
My valet embuggers, I lick his testicles—I worshiped that splendid fellow—; I get to my feet and suck his mouth while he looses his seed into my wife’s behind; my daughter is promptly given like treatment. I fuck him while he saws away in that unfortunate girl’s anus.
“And now,” I said as soon as he was finished, “some entertainment at our victims’ expense.”
Having my Carleson stand up, I require the two whores to lick every part of his body, not omitting his member, his asshole, and the spaces between his toes, his armpits also. I engage him to shit upon a thornbush and I oblige those women to go there and eat his excrement, though it means getting their faces scratched and torn; next, we catch them by the hair, thrust them head first back into the same bush, drag them out, toss them back in again, till the thorns have cut them to the bone; nothing so poignant, so heartrending as their screams, nothing so keen as the pleasure we derive from them….
“O just Heaven! What have I done to be treated in this way?” Philogone gasped, falling to her knees and imploring mercy. “O you who call yourself my father, if it be true that I am your daughter prove it by treating me more kindly; and you, my mother … my unhappy mother, must we be dealt the same blow at the very moment Heaven’s hand guides us back to each other? Father! oh, my father, I have not deserved this fate! Spare me—”
But without even listening to these plaints, Carleson and I garrote the two sluts and, gathering us each a handful of thorns, we lash them as hard as we can. Wounds soon develop everywhere; no more is needed to straighten my prick anew; with incredible delight I lap the blood oozing from Philogone’s lacerated body. It is my own blood, I reminded myself, and the idea added a further inch to my blinding erection. I savor that voluptuous mouth which opens only to implore me; I press ardent kisses to those eyes moistened by tears my fury causes to flow; and from time to time returning to my dear Clotilda’s ass, I treat it with similar ferocity; then, clutching Carleson’s to me, I devour it with caresses and suck his marvelous prick.
“We must place them in another posture,” I declare.
We untie them and make them kneel; cords fixed to nearby trees maintain their arms in the air, heavy stones laid over their calves and ankles immobilize them completely. So placed, both expose their inspiring breasts to us. Nothing so fair, so lovely as Philogone’s; Clotilda’s, though a shade less firm, look still to be perfectly preserved. This sight brought my irritation to its climax. Oh, the pleasure to be reaped from severing the bonds uniting us to others! I have the two of them kiss my behind; I shit into their mouths, then, while buggering Carleson, I take hold of those breasts, lift them, and shave them all four off close to the chest; then, threading those chunks of flesh upon a string, out of them I compose necklaces for the two women; they are streaming blood and in that state are further wet by the last spurts of fuck which I ejaculate over their bodies while Carleson skewers my ass.
“That ought to do,” I say; “we may leave them there, tied as they are: the animals of this island will be another three or four days finishing them off. Better that they die slowly than that, dispatched by us, they be deprived of the possibility of further suffering.”
Carleson, who is exceedingly ferocious of character, was terribly eager to complete the work there and then so as not, he said, to be cheated of the pleasure of seeing the pair expire; but once I had convinced him that the course I proposed was the more villainous one, he gave in and we prepared to bid the ladies adieu.
“God in Heaven!” Clotilda groaned, “is this to what an original sin will lead us! Deep is my guilt owing to that monster, I admit it; but dear God, how severe is thy retribution!”
“Ha! This that we are hearing, good friend,” say I to Carleson, “sounds very much like rebellion against the Supreme Being; let us avenge the God we so mightily revere, you and I. The blasphemer’s punishment used to be to have his tongue cut out, justice must not be allowed to languish; furthermore, it is essential that these whores be prevented from talking.”
And, going up to them, we force open their mouths and slice three inches off each of their tongues.
“Since they cannot speak any more,” Carleson says to me, “there is no reason on earth why they ought to be able to see; let’s gouge out the lovely eyes which once melted your heart….”
And my prompt response to that wise proposal was to prick out Philogone’s while Carleson blinded Clotilda forever.
“Well and good, so far as it goes; but,” I ask, “might not the sluts bite at the scavengers that will be coming to feed on them?”
“They are surely apt to try.”
“Then we must break their teeth.”
For that operation we employ a stone; not wishing to damage our patients further, lest they be totally insensible to the ravages the wild creatures of the isle are soon to inflict upon them, we take our departure. A hundred paces brought us to a little hillock; from its summit we had a clear view of the thing. Owls, bats, all the beasts of prey that abounded on that island had already arrived: soon one saw nothing but a dark mass.
“Oh, my brave Carleson,” I exclaimed, “what a spectacle I How comforting it is, to have wives and daughters of one’s own to treat in this manner. And how sorry I am that I do not have a hundred other persons to feel just as close to: not one of them would escape me. Dear Carleson, see how the sight gladdens me; come, let me sodomize your peerless ass yet again while I watch.”
I embugger, I frig my friend, and after having each discharged one last time, we head back toward the shore.
We had a little story ready for the captain; that and a few sequins, nothing more was needed; and we landed at Naples on the third day after our Owl Island expedition.
Wishing to settle in Italy, I straightway inquired about land for sale in this fair country and purchased the estate upon which you see me dwelling today. But, rich though I was, I found it impossible to give up my brigand’s vocation; it has too many charms to be abandoned, it too well suits my inclinations for me ever to be able to embrace some other; theft and murder have become the prime necessities of my life; I would simply cease to exist were I deprived of the pleasure of indulging in them every day. Here I exercise my honorable profession as of old great vassals used to do throughout the dominions that were theirs; I have a small army in my hire; Carleson is my lieutenant; ’twas he who arrested you on the road; ’twas he I left in charge when I journeyed to Paris to fetch my sister, with whom I was so eager to be reunited.
Despite the influence, the power, the wealth she enjoyed, Clairwil did not hesitate to leave everything behind in order to throw in her lot with mine; my dedication to crime appealed to her, she looked with favor upon the position I had attained for myself. Joining me, she counted upon being more than ever in a position to satisfy those fierce passions for which she is generally known. I remained three months in Paris while she readied her departure; then we returned together to this den of crime and infamy. Out of a mutual decision to reinforce our existing ties by whatever could consolidate them most intimately, we were married on our way hither, at Lyon; and our hope today is that no circumstance shall ever arise to separate two persons so admirably suited to each other, and who, notwithstanding their execrable penchants, will always make an exquisite and delightful duty of welcoming into their retreat and cherishing such sincere friends as yourselves.
“Oh, Juliette,” asked Clairwil when once her brother had finished speaking, “do you find such a man a worthy partner for me?”
“He is, surely, most worthy of all those who are intelligent enough to feel that the highest of all laws is the one bidding the individual to pursue his happiness, setting aside anything others may say or think.”
Borghese clasps us in her arms, we all exchange a thousand more kisses. Borchamps, whom henceforth we shall call by no other name, and Sbrigan
i seemed equally enchanted at making each other’s acquaintance; Elise and Raimonde congratulated themselves upon seeing this conclusion to an adventure whereof the beginnings had caused them such keen alarm.
We were all in the midst of these gay effusions when a scout entered to notify the captain that his riders were bringing in a coach containing an entire family and much money.
“Excellent news,” replied Clairwil’s amiable brother; “these persons, I trust, shall be material suitable to answer voluptuous purposes, and as for the money, its arrival could not be more timely, for if you are of my mind, our next step should be to spend several months in Naples.”
“Agreed,” said Clairwil, squeezing my hand.
“Very well,” Borchamps announced, “whatever funds this capture brings me, I devote every penny to our trip.”
At that point the prisoners appeared.
“Captain,” said Carleson, who entered at the head of the band, “today is indeed one for thanksgiving: this family is mine. Let me introduce my wife,” he continued, presenting a very attractive woman of thirty-four. “These two girls,” he went on, first indicating the younger, thirteen years of age and lovely to see, then the other, fifteen, a creature before whom the Graces would have paled from envy, “are out of my testicle. Here is my son,” he added, offering us a sixteen-year-old youth of most engaging physiognomy. “Two words from me to acquaint you with this affair; my wife may then explain the rest to you. Rosine is Danish; seventeen years ago, I made a journey to Copenhagen, met her there, and married her. I was then eighteen; hence, am thirty-five now.
“This handsome lad, whom I named Francisco, was the first fruit of our love; Christine over there,” and Carleson pointed to the girl of fifteen, “was the next; Ernelinde the last. Not long after Ernelinde’s birth came my adventures in Russia; certain political deeds saw me deported to Siberia, from where I made my escape before associating with Borchamps in Tiflis. Chance restores this beloved family to me, I present it to you, beseeching you to do absolutely whatever you please with it: I should like to prove to my captain that I am as little concerned as he by ties of kinship.”
“Madame,” Borchamps said to Rosine, “have the gracious-ness to satisfy our curiosity as regards the rest.”
“Alas, my Lord,” said the beautiful Rosine, “abandoned by that perfidious man I made do as best I could during the first year of his absence; then, having come into a considerable inheritance, I devoted part of my money to searching for my husband throughout France and, more recently, in Italy, where I received positive assurance he was to be found: I hoped for nothing more than to guide his children to the happiness awaiting them in their father’s arms. What was my surprise when after all these years my first glimpse of him is at the head of a band of robbers. The monster! Such is the infamous trade he was plying while I, constantly attached to my duties, was, owing to his desertion, without even the bare necessities of life.”
“Oh, this is touching, touching,” murmured Olympia.12 “Our friend Borchamps, I trust, will exploit these circumstances to the fullest….”
“Madame,” Clairwil declared to the unhappy woman, “nothing in all you have just told us can exempt you from the common fate of those my husband’s soldiers take prisoner. Pray tell, to what does it amount, the fortune you bring us?”
“One hundred thousand crowns, Madame,” Carleson’s amiable wife replied.
“One hundred thousand crowns,” Clairwil repeated. “A paltry sum.” Then, turning toward me: “Hardly enough to pay our rent in Naples.”
“My friend,” said Rosine, addressing her husband, “together with that I brought you my heart, and these children begot of your heart’s ardor.”
“Ah,” said the lieutenant, “let’s not bother over trifles; such gifts aren’t worth a pipeful of tobacco.”
“I’ll be more generous in my estimate,” said I to Carleson, whom I was beginning to behold with considerable interest; “the pleasures we await from these four delicious objects are not to be despised.”
“We shall soon verify whether or not that is so,” answered Carleson, who had already discerned much in my eyes; “but one thing is very certain, Madame, and that is that I believe there are few pleasures to rival what I await from you.”
“Truly?” I replied, giving the agreeable fellow’s hand a tender little squeeze.
“I’ll wager it, Madame,” said he, to my lips pressing a kiss that foretold of his capabilities; “yes, and I am prepared to repay you in kind.”
“May I suggest that we dine,” said the captain.
“With the whole family together?” the lieutenant asked.
“By all means,” said Madame de Clairwil; “I wish to see them all there before sending them somewhere else.”
Orders are issued and the most magnificent dinner is served. Seated beside me, Carleson manifested great eagerness to possess me and, I must say, I was just as strongly drawn in the same direction. His children were timid in this company, abashed; his wife tearful and lovely; everybody else gay and exceedingly libertine.
“Come,” said Borchamps, nodding toward Carlson and me, “let’s not make these two sweethearts languish any longer, they are fairly dying to come to grips.”
“Yes,” said Borghese, “but the scene must be public.”
“She is right,” Clairwil agreed. “Carleson, the assembly gives you leave to fuck Juliette, but that must be in its presence.”
“But what will my wife and children think?”
“Why, bless me, whatever they like,” said I, taking Carleson by the sleeve and leading him to a couch; “all the saints in paradise might be on hand, my dear, and I’d not have myself any the less fucked by you.”
And, drawing a monstrous engine out of his breeches, “Pardon, Madame,” I say to Rosine, “if I usurp pleasures which ought by rights to be yours alone, but, fuck my eyes, I have been lusting for your good man a little too long, and now that I’ve got hold of him, serve me he shall.” Those words were scarce out of my mouth when Carleson’s awesome prick had gone into the depths of my womb.
“Look,” said the captain, dropping his breeches, “was I mistaken in claiming that my friend has the world’s fairest ass?”
And, so saying, the bugger embuggers him, while Clairwil kisses me upon the mouth and takes hold of my clitoris, and Olympia thrusts three digits into my asshole.
“Captain,” asked Sbrigani, ignited by this spectacle, “would you care for a penetration? Think you not this prick you see is in a state to satisfy you?”
“Fuck away, Sir, fuck away, my ass yawns,” said the outlaw; “but be so good as to palpate other asses while you stuff mine.”
“Why, I shall post Elise’s to my right, Raimonde’s to my left, both within easy reach,” said Sbrigani, “and for your recreation, situate ahead of you that of the wife alongside that of the husband you are fucking and those also of their three children.”
The group is arranged, and in less time than it takes to tell everybody discharges; and having voiced our determination to squander no further fuck on such childishness, by unanimous agreement we advance to more serious orgies. For the sake of clarification it behooves me to enumerate the participants in the drama.
I beg therefore to remind you that we were twelve: Borchamps, Sbrigani, Carleson, Clairwil, Borghese, and myself, those were the six who assumed active roles; our patients included Elise, Raimonde, Rosine, Francisco, Ernelinde, and Christine.
“Carleson,” said Borchamps, uncovering the young Francisco’s behind, “here is an ass to compete with yours, my friend, and I feel I am about to offer it homage quite as pure as those whereof yours has for such a long time been deserving from me.”
And, while saying that, he was fondling, he was kissing, the prettiest pair of buttocks, the whitest, the firmest you shall ever behold.
“I am opposed to this arrangement,” Clairwil protested, “’tis sinning against every law, divine and human, to prevent Carleson from depucelating his ow
n son: this child is going to ass-fuck me, his mother will finger my cunt; and the father will embugger his son while Elise and Raimonde give him the whip and while he handles the buttocks of Juliette to his left, Borghese to his right, both of whom will be giving the whip to Carleson’s two daughters, this before the eyes of Borchamps, embuggered by Sbrigani and assisting in the flagellatory operation being performed upon his lieutenant’s two children.”
The stage is set, the actors begin, the young Francisco, perfectly sodomized by his father, irreproachably sodomizes my friend; but her weeping attests to Rosine’s misgivings as she lends herself to indecencies which appear to clash with her standards of behavior. During these multiple couplings, the captain, esteeming himself less than sufficiently integrated into the scene, takes it into his head, all the while he has Sbrigani’s prick in his fundament, to grab the younger of Carleson’s daughters; and, without the least preparation, the rake embuggers her, uttering oaths. The girl swoons; undeterred, the captain burrows deeper still, for he no longer encounters any resistance; the impression one has is that he means to split the wretch in two. Soon losing interest in her, he has at her sister; although fifteen years of age, she is so slender, so dainty, so delicate, that the introduction of Borchamps’ gigantean member causes her vexations as keen and lesions as grave as those Ernelinde has just sustained. Nothing, however, halts the brigand’s prodigious efforts: he presses, braces himself, lunges, strikes bottom.
“Oh, Carleson,” he cries in his enthusiasm, “those are asses whereof you may be proud; rid me of these cunts, if you can, they’re ready for you.”
Clairwil’s bowels, meanwhile, are washed by Francisco’s fuck, and the rascal, starting forward as though electrified, in one swift, smooth motion unseats her rider, whirls, and comes to rest with the boy’s prick lodged in her cunt, performing this acrobatic without the slightest disturbance to the father, who, throughout, is sodomizing his bewildered son. Carleson at last unlooses his fuck; and Francisco’s ass becoming vacant, the captain, weary of females, promptly darts his prick thereinto, while I, swept away upon a wave of lewdness, rush up to lick this handsome man’s ass, which I have been hankering to taste for hours. Carleson, perceiving his two daughters idle, encunts one of them while kissing the ass of the other and having himself flogged by Elise, whom Raimonde, by Sbrigani embuggered, frigs apace. New outpourings of fuck enjoin rearrangements. I am at last embuggered by the captain while his sister frigs me, and Carleson, frigged by Sbrigani, sodomizes his wife while ass-kissing his three children held by Elise and Raimonde, whose cunts the bawdy fellow frigs, Olympia opening those parts to his fingers.
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