At this moment I heard a whispered call from above. I looked up and saw two ladies looking down at me from one of the windows, and behind them were gathered several others whom I could just see in the gloom. “We have been watching you,” said one of the ladies, “and will try to assist you; wait where you are.” She spoke French, which is the common medium of communication among the different nations inhabiting the shores of the Mediterranean, and which had become familiar to me. I now thought this isolated building was a seraglio, and I resolved to trust the ladies who ran even more risk than myself in case of discovery. After waiting some time a rope of shawls was let down from the window and the same voice bade me climb. My discipline when a midshipman made this easy for me to do.
I rose hand over hand and safely reached the window, through which I was assisted by the ladies into the perfumed air of an elegant apartment, richly furnished and brilliantly lighted. My first duty was to kiss the hands which had aided me, and then I explained the accident which brought me among them and the plan which I had formed for escape before dawn. I then gave them my name and rank.
While doing this, I had an opportunity to observe the ladies. There were nine of them, and any one of them would have anywhere been remarked for her beauty. Each one of them differed from all the others in the style of her charms. Some were large and some were small, some slender and some plump, some blonde and some brunette; but all were bewitchingly beautiful. Each, too, was the most lovely type of a different nationality; for war and shipwrecks and piracy enable the Moorish pashas to choose their darlings from all the flags that float on the Mediterranean. A lady whom they called Inez, and whom, therefore, I took to be a Spaniard, answered me by bidding me in the name of all of them the warmest welcome.
“You are,” she said, “in the seraglio of Abdallah, pasha of the district, who is not expected until tomorrow, and who will never be the wiser if his ladies seize the opportunity to entertain a gentleman during his absence. We have no secrets or jealousies among ourselves,” smiling very significantly.
“That is very unusual,” I remarked. “How can any of you know whether she has any secrets with the one he happens to be alone with?”
“But none of us are ever alone with him,” replied Inez.
The blank look of consternation I wore set them all to laughing. They were brimful of mischief, and evidently bent on making the most of the unexpected company of a young man.
Inez put her hand on my sleeve. “How wet you are,” said she. “It would not be hospitable to allow you to keep on such wet clothes.”
My clothes were perfectly dry, but the winks and smiles which the young ladies exchanged as they began to disrobe me led me to submit cheerfully while they proceeded to divest me of every article of clothing. When at length my shirt was suddenly jerked off they gave little screams and peeped through their fingers at my shaft, which by this time was of most towering dimensions.
I had snatched a hearty kiss from one and all of them as they had gathered round to undress me.
Inez now handed me a scarf which she had taken from her own fair shoulders. “We can none of us bear to leave you,” she said, “but you can only kiss one at a time; please throw this to the lady you prefer.”
Good heavens! Then it was true that all of these beautiful ladies had been accustomed to be present when one of them was embraced.
“Ladies,” said I, “you are unfair; you have stripped me, but you leave those charms concealed which you offer my preference. I am sure none of you have any imperfections which you wish to keep covered.”
The ladies looked at one another, blushed a little, nodded and laughed and then began undressing. Velvet vests, skirts of lawn and silken trousers were rapidly flung to the floor; lastly, as if it were a given signal, every dainty chemise was stripped off, and nine of the most lovely forms that ever floated throughout a sculptor’s dream stood naked before me. Was I dreaming, or had I suddenly been transported to the seventh heaven?
For a while I stood entranced, gazing at the charming spectacle. “Ladies,” said I, “at least it would be immodest in me to give preference when all are so ravishingly lovely. Please keep the scarf, fair Inez, and when I have paid a tribute to your fair charms pass it yourself to another, until all have been gratified.”
“Did he say all?” asked a little brunette.
“All indeed!” cried the rest in chorus bursting into laughter.
“Everyone,” said I, “or I will perish in the attempt.”
Inez was standing directly in front of me. She was about nineteen and of that rarest type of Spanish beauty, partly derived from Flemish blood.
Her eyes were sparkling brown, but her long hair was blonde. It was braided and coiled around the top of her head like a crown, which added to her queenly appearance, for she was about the ordinary stature; her plump and well-rounded form harmonized with her height. Her complexion had the slight yellow tinge of rich cream, which was set off by the rosy nipples that tipped her full breasts and the still deeper hue of her lips and mouth. She happened to be standing on one of the silken cushions which, singly and in piles, lay scattered about the room in profusion. It made her height just equal to my own. As soon as I had made the speech last recorded, I advanced and folded her in my embrace. Her soft arms were wound around me in response, and our lips met in a delicious and prolonged kiss, during which my shaft was imprisoned against her warm smooth belly. Then she raised herself on tiptoes, which brought its crest among the short thick hair where the belly terminated. With one hand I guided my shaft to the en-trance, which welcomed it; with my other I held her plump buttocks toward me.
Then she gradually settled on her feet again and, as she did so, the entrance was slowly and delightfully effected in her moist, hot and swollen sheath.
When she was on her feet again, I could feel her throbbing womb resting on my shaft.
The other ladies gathered around us, their kisses rained on my neck and shoulders, and the pressure of their bosoms was against my back and sides; indeed, they so completely sustained Inez and myself that I seemed about to mingle my being with them all at once. I had stirred the being of Inez with but a few thrusts when the rosy cheeks took on a deeper dye; her eyes swam, her lips parted and I felt a delicious baptism of moisture on my shaft.
Then her head sank on my shoulder and the gathered sperm of months gushed from my crest so profusely that I seemed completely transferred with the waves of rapture into the beautiful Spanish girl.
Her sighs of pleasure were not only echoed by mine, but by all the ladies in sympathy gathered around us. They gently lowered us from their sustaining embrace to a pile of cushions. As they did so with hardly any aid on our part, my diminished shaft was drawn out of Inez and with some of my tributary sperm, which splashed on the floor.
“It was bad of you, Inez, to take more than you could keep,” said one of the others. She said it in such a pitiful tone it convulsed us all with laughter.
As for me, I now realized the rashness of the promise I had made them all. They gaily joined hands around Inez and myself and began a circling dance.
Their round, white limbs and plump bosoms floated in the lamp-light as they moved in cadence to a Moorish love song in which they all joined.
With my cheeks pillowed against the soft, full breasts of Inez, I watched the charming circle, which was like a scene from fairyland. Bracelets and anklets of heavy gold glittered on their arms and legs; rings, necklaces and earrings of diamonds and rubies, which they had in profusion, glittered at every moment. Each one had her hair elaborately dressed in the style most becoming to her, and there were no envious garments to conceal a single charm. I urged them to prolong the bewitching spectacle again and again, which they obligingly did. Then they gathered around me, reclining to rest on the cushion as near as they could get in attitudes which were picturesque and voluptuous.
While we were thus resting I frequently exchanged a kiss or caress with my fair companions, which I took care to
do impartially. Then it occurred to me that I would like to hear from the lips of each the most interesting and voluptuous passage from their lives. Again these interesting ladies, after a little urging, consented to my wishes. Inez commenced.
The Spanish Lady’s Story
We lived in Seville. At the age of sixteen my parents promised me in marriage to a gentleman whom I had never seen but twice and did not admire. My love was already given to Carlos, a handsome young officer who had just been promoted for his bravery. He was elegantly formed; his hair and eyes were as dark as night, and he could dance to perfection. But it was for his gentle, winning smile that I loved him. On the evening of the day my parents had announced their determination to me I had gone to be alone in the orange grove in the farthest part of our garden, there to sorrow over my hard fate. In the midst of my grief I heard the voice of Carlos calling me. Could it be he who had been banished from the house and whom I never expected to see again? He sprang down from the garden wall, folded me in his embrace and covered my hair with kisses, for I had hidden my blushing face on his bosom. Then we talked of our sad lot. Carlos was poor and it would be impossible to marry without the consent of my parents. We could only mingle our tears and regrets. He led me to a grassy bank concealed by orange trees and rose bushes. Then he drew me on his lap and kissed my lips and cheeks and eyes. I did not chide him, for it must be our last meeting, but I did not return his kisses with passion. I had never felt a wanton desire in my life, much less when I was so sad. His passionate kisses were no longer confined to my face, but were showered on my neck, and at length my dress was parted and revealed my little bosoms to his ardent lips. I was startled and made an attempt to stop him in what I considered an impropriety, but he did not stop there. I felt my skirts raised, and a mingled sensation of alarm and shame accused me to try to prevent it, but it was impossible. I loved him too much to struggle long against him, and he was soon lying between my naked thighs. “Inez,” he said, “if you love me be my wife these few minutes before we part.” I could not resist the appeal.
I offered my lips to his kisses without any feeling save innocent love, and lay passive while I felt him guide a stiff, warm object between my thighs. It entered where nothing had ever gone before, and no sooner had it done so than he gave me a fierce thrust which seemed to tear my vitals with a cruel pain; then he gave a deep sigh and sank heavily on my bosom. I kissed him repeatedly for I supposed it had hurt him as much as it did me, little thinking that his pleasure was as exquisite as my suffering.
Just at that moment the harsh voice of my duenna resounded through the garden, calling, “Inez! Inez!”
Exchanging with my seducer a lingering, hearty kiss, I extracted myself from his embrace and answered the call. My duenna eyed me sharply as I approached her. “Why do you straddle your legs so far apart when you walk?” she asked as I came closer. “Why is the bosom of your dress so disordered, and why are your cheeks so flushed?” I made some excuse about climbing to get an orange and hurried to my room. I locked the door and prepared to go to bed, that I might think uninterruptedly of Carlos, whom I now loved more than ever. When I took off my petticoat I found it all stained with blood.
I folded it up and placed it beneath my pillow to dream upon, under the fond delusion that Carlos’ blood was mingled with my own. For a few weeks afterwards I was so closely watched that I could not see Carlos. On the evening preceding my marriage I went to vespers with my duenna. While we were kneeling in the cathedral a large woman, closely veiled, came and knelt beside me. She attracted my attention by pulling my dress. As I turned to her, she momentarily lifted the corner of her mantilla, and I saw it was Carlos in disguise. I was now on the alert, and a small package was slipped into my hand. I had just time to conceal it in my bosom when my duenna arose and we left the church. As soon as I regained the privacy of my room I tore open the package and found it contained a silken rope-ladder and a letter from Carlos requesting me to suspend it from my window that night after the family was at rest. The note was full of love.
There was much more to tell, it said, if I would grant the interview by means of the ladder. Of course I was determined to see him. I was ignorant of what most girls learn from each other, for I had no companion. I supposed when a woman was embraced as I had been she necessarily got with child and that such embraces therefore occurred at intervals of a year or so. I expected consequently nothing of the kind at the coming interview. I wanted to learn of Carlos if the child I supposed to be in my womb would be born so soon as to betray our secret to my husband. When the family retired I went to my room and dressed myself elaborately, braiding my hair and putting on all of my jewellery.
I then fastened one end of the rope-ladder to the bed-post and lowered the other end out of the window. It was at once strained by the ascending step of Carlos. My eyes were soon feasted with the sight of my lover, and then we were locked in each other’s arms. Again and again we alternately devoured each other with our eyes and pressed each other to our hearts. Words did not seem to be of any use; our kisses and caresses became more passionate and for the first time in my life I felt a wanton emotion. The lips between my thighs became moistened and torrid with coursing blood; I could feel my cheeks burn under the ardent gaze of my lover; I could no longer meet his eyes; my own dropped in shame. He began to undress me rapidly and his hands trembled with eagerness. Could it be he wanted to pierce my loins so soon again, as he had done in the orange garden? An hour ago I would have dreaded it; now the thought caused throbs of welcome just where the pain had been sharpest. Stripped to my chemise, and even that unbuttoned by the eager hand of my lover, I darted from his arms and concealed my confusion beneath the covers.
He soon undressed and followed me; one kiss on my cheeks and one on each of my naked bosoms, then he opened my thighs and parted the little curls between. Again I felt the stiff, warm object entering; it went in slowly on account of the lightness, but every inch of its progress inward became more and more pleasant. When it had fully entered I was in a rapture of delight, yet something was wanting. I dropped my arms around my lover and responded passionately to his kisses. I was almost tempted to respond to his thrusts by a wanton motion of my loins. My maidenhead was gone and the tender virgin wound completely healed, but I still had a remnant of maidenly shame. For a moment he lay still and then he gave me half a dozen deep thrusts, each one giving me more and more pleasure. It culminated at last in a thrill so exquisite that my frame seemed to melt; nothing more was wanting! I gave a sigh of deep gratification and my arms fell helpless to my sides! But I received with passionate pleasure two or three more thrusts, which Carlos gave me. At each of them my sheath was penetrated by a copious gush that soothed and bathed its heated membranes.
For a long time we lay perfectly still; the stiff shaft, which had completely filled me, had diminished in size until it slipped completely out. Carlos at last relieved me of his weight by lying by my side, but our legs were still entwined. We now had time to converse; my lover explained to me all the sexual mysteries, which remained for me to know. Then we formed plans which after marriage would enable us to meet often. These explanations and plans were mingled so freely with caresses that before my lover had left me we had melted five times in each other’s arms.
I had barely strength to draw up the rope-ladder after he had departed. The day had now begun to dawn and I fell into a dreamless sleep. Being awakened by my duenna pounding on the door and calling that it was nearly ten o’clock, and that I was to be married at eleven. I was in no hurry, but they got me to church in time; during the whole ceremony I felt my lover’s sperm trickling down my thighs.
*
We all applauded as she thus finished her story. While Inez was telling her story, one of the ladies, whom I had noticed to be the most fleshy of the number, cuddled up close to my side and suffered me to explore all of her charms with my hand. During the description of the scene in the orange garden my fingers toyed with the curls between her thighs, and
as the story went on, I parted the curls and felt the lips beneath. She was partly on her belly against me, so that this by-play was not observed; my fingers were encouraged by the lady’s hand until two of them made an entrance and were completely enclosed in the hot, moist tissue.
The little protuberance all women have within the orifice, and which is the principal seat of sensation, was in her remarkably developed. It was as large as the end of my little finger. I played with it and squeezed it and plunged my two fingers past it again and again. She manifested her delight by kissing me on the neck where she had hidden her face.
When Inez described her first thrill in the bedroom scene, my fingers were doing all in their power to complete the other lady’s gratification, and this, too, with success, for they were suddenly bathed with moisture and the lady drew a deep sigh, which was not noticed, for all supposed it to be in sympathy with Inez’s story. Then she withdrew my hand and lay perfectly still. Inez was about to give her her scarf, but she lay so motionless that she handed it to another. “This,” said Inez, “is Helene, a Grecian lady; she will tell you a story and then she will do anything you wish.” My head was still pillowed on Inez’s breast. Helene smiled and then stooped and kissed me. She was about medium height; very slender, but graceful and well-rounded, and her skin was alabaster. Her features were of the perfect antique mould and were lighted with fine grey eyes. Her glossy black hair was all brushed back to a knot just below the back of her neck, from which but a single curl escaped on either side and toyed with her firm and finely rounded bosoms.
The deep vermilion of her lips compensated for the faint colour of her cheeks, whose tinge was scarcely deeper than that of the hard little nipples that tipped her bosoms or that of her small and finely cut ears. She was about twenty–two, and ripe to yield a charming embrace. I drew her down to a seat on my loins and begged her to begin her story.
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