by AnonYMous
I induced her to describe the circumstances of her depucelation – for she believed herself a maid no more – because I had a strong taste for such narratives and hoped hers would sufficiently restore my vigor to enable me to fuck her once again. She launched into the story as soon as I had put her in the right mood by speaking of her lover.
"Our first night and the three succeeding ones each netted Vitnègre five hundred louis, or so I subsequently learned from him. Directly we reached the house in which we were to dwell together, he lit four candles and disposed them around the bed. He had me lie down with my skirts raised above my waist. He turned me this way and that way, examining and kissing me everywhere. He had me lift my legs in the air and then stand up on the bed. 'Wiggle your ass,' said he, 'no, this way, the way I'm doing it' – he showed me how – 'as if I were busy fucking you.' I pointed out to him that this was indecent. 'Indecent! Bah! A wife is her husband's whore,' he observed philosophically and fell to sucking my cunt and then bawled at the top of his lungs: 'She's discharging! look at her squirt!' Then he had me grasp his thick member, as heavy as a horse's and of the same color. 'Down on your back,' he cried, 'I'm going to fuck you now.' He flung himself upon my belly, but could accomplish nothing. 'They who say your father popped your cherry are a pack of bloody liars. You're as mint as a six-months-old babe. Would that all of Europe were here to bear witness to this marvel. A knitting needle couldn't go into it.' He lubricated me with some preparation, oiling me before and behind, extinguished the candles (my maidenhead had been sold) and pretended to climb into bed. Actually, it was someone else who lay down beside me, for all night long I was harassed by a fat member which got nowhere in the face of my narrow avenues."
At the point in her story when she had quoted Vitnègre's exclamation, "She's discharging!" I had slid a hand between her thighs. She felt it there but offered no resistance. I sank a finger into her cunt. "Ah, Papa," said she, "you'll be just as hard on me as the others when the day comes that I am depucelated."
"How's that? Depucelated? Is this true, my heavenly child?"
"Never has anyone entered into what you are holding with your hand at this minute."
"Oh, adorable girl, I am a god, not a mortal man! But you've given me too fierce an erection! I must have your precious favor, else I'll have a frightful spermatic colic." Without further ado I picked her up in my arms and carried her into the adjoining cabinet.
"You are all of you alike," she sighed, "and even my own papa cares for me only on account of that hole."
"And on account also of yours breasts, your nipples, your mouth, your eyes, your voluptuous figure, your inspiring curves, your legs, your prick-lifting feet, your soul, naive and virginal still despite all that has been done to make a whore of you." As I pronounced these words, I raised her skirts from behind – she was bent forward over the couch placed in the room for purposes of fuckery – and I readied myself to attack her from the rear, but pommade was necessary to effect the introduction.
"It's all my own fault," she continued, "if these stories I tell inflame every man who listens to them. Timon only once threatened my virtue and that was after he had heard the same tale, although I didn't go into all the particulars." She sprang away from me, for my device was hovering within an inch of success.
"And so you wish to make me ill, downright ill," I said in the most plaintive accents.
They melted her, her lovely blue eyes became moist, she came back and leaned forward and inserted my prick herself, and aiding me despite some sharp pains, which the pommade only partially lessened, she said, "Whenever my sister and I would watch you stick it into Mother – and we saw you doing it all the time – you used to roar with pleasure, but you must not roar now, Vitnègre might walk in."
I promised to labor in silence. Ah, what delights were mine! I encunted her and my beloved partner's trick twitched and gripped my prick. Never was satin so smooth as the celestial cuntlet's interior, the cuntlet yet unfledged is not narrower. "Ah, if that rascal of a husband of yours had really known what your cunt is worth, he'd have battled his way into it even at the price of dying in the attempt."
"No, his member is too thick, you see. He was afraid of spoiling me. He frigs himself, or has me frig him, while holding me by the hair or buttocks and when he discharges he swears and blasphemes." She contracted. She discharged, whereupon I too came, deliciously, ecstatically, crying aloud notwithstanding my promise.
"Move, move, shake, stir your ass," I said again and again, "squeeze your cunt, my angel, good ... good ... choke it to death ... ah again ... and again!" She wrung my spouting prick and herself discharged repeatedly. I felt the last depths of her cunt pinch and suck the end of my prick. I discharged three times running without budging from her cunt, and she shot off perhaps ten ejaculations, which I could sense from her convulsive shudderings, her spasms, her jerking up and down. At last she was spent, panting for breath. I disencunted as soon as I felt she had ceased to emit. She washed herself at once, for Vitnègre had the whimsical habit, upon his return and even in the presence of anyone he brought home with him, of seizing and sniffing her cunt.
We went into the salon to rest ourselves and to talk. I divulged the entire adventure of the monk in whose interests Vitnègre had made her display her breasts, her ass, her cunt. I described the huge proportions of the monk's engine, assuring her that it was twice the size of her husband's. I provided her with a picture of the barbarous joy of the ecclesiastic near whom I had lain in hiding and who in the most unequivocal language had expressed his desire to split her open like a ripe melon with his massive prick. Shuddering, Conquette cast herself into my arms upon hearing of all this. "Oh, save me, dearest Papa, only save me and I shall be devoted to you forever!"
"I shall save you," I affirmed. I explained how and why the beastly monk had gone, swearing that, had he remained and tried to violate her, I would have stabbed him to death without hesitation. I explained also how her abominable husband had surrendered her to me, thinking he was giving her to the monk who had paid for her. "You know, oh, adorable child, how I put it in you. 'Tis I who, contrary to all hope and all likelihood, 'tis I who snatched your maidenhead from the clutches of our enemies."
Conquette kissed me prettily upon the lips. "But how are you going to rescue me?" she wanted to know.
"I shall come to fetch you an hour from now, I'll lead you away, and you'll stay at your pension. As soon as you are safe and sound, I'll bring an attractive and talented whore to Vitnerge – I've got your key to the house and I've already found the whore and she's agreed. I'll make a noise immediately when I hear Vitnègre and the monk arriving. Then, I'll skip out. I'll listen to what goes on, and tomorrow we'll see what's to be done."
This scheme delighted my daughter who saw her sufferings about to be brought to an end. I ought to have taken her away without wasting an instant, but instead I amused myself by having her tell me what had befallen upon the second and third nights of her marriage.
My matchless daughter resumed her woeful story in these terms:
"Vitnègre repeated the same things the second night. He took light hold of by breasts and said 'These seem of an admirable firmness.' Then he stationed me as though he were exhibiting me on the auctioneer's block to a crowd of imaginary buyers (one of whom was only too real). After having placed my fur in view, he turned me around and showed my buttocks. 'Still a virgin,' said he, as if speaking to himself. 'In order to perforate her you'll have to grease her like a pig and dip your own prick in butter.' He sucked and violently pumped my cunt and, when I was wet enough to satisfy him, he let me catch my breath.
"After a brief nap I woke to find that I was lying on my belly, and that astride me sat a man who was struggling to drive his exceedingly massive member into my fundament. But, although he cared not a whit for my groans and sighs, he failed over and over again to open a passage through my anal rosebud – that was his expression as he spoke in a low whisper to someone nearby. I next heard someone els
e in this room say: 'Well, I'm not the one to be of much help. My prick's far too heavy to blaze the trail. Here have a look. Much too thick, isn't it?' I understood nothing, fell back to sleep and did not awake again.
"The next day, towards noon, having first buttered my rosebud and steeped his member in olive oil, Vitnègre bade me lie down upon my belly and pull my skirts up, then he mounted into the saddle. 'I've got to try out this buggering club on you,' he muttered. I reminded him he had spent the whole night trying me out. 'That will be enough from you,' said he; 'all we need to do is enlarge the vent. Ah, by God, what a fortune these two gems are going to bring me once the rumor gets abroad!' He strove with might and main, tortured me for a good two hours, and all for nothing. He had to suspend his experiment, a copious discharge deprived him of rigidity and strength.
"And the third night he once again repeated what he had done on each of the previous ones. Upon awakening and while still sleepy, I found myself lying upon my back. Above me was a man frantically attacking my gem with everything in his power. I uttered a protest. 'Are you discharging, my dear?" inquired Vitnègre. My rider dismounted, and he added: 'Beware lest you cry wolf the moment you see something hairy coming your way. Buck up, my heart. Fist this prick of mine. I've a yen to discharge. Tickle my balls with your free hand, that's it, do what I'm doing to your cunt ... fine ... splendid ... ah!' But 'twasn't he I fondled, I discovered that afterwards. Someone discharged no fewer than six times in succession. I served that man steadily for more than an hour, and he devoted another to tonguing me. I was at the end of my strength. And then he had me with his mouth and he lost not a drop: he swallowed it all and left me at last."
I restiffened despite my four discharges and said to my daughter: "I can bear it not another second, oh, divinely becunted angel. I'll not try to hide it from you, my delicious little friend. Apart from my passion for you, quite as inexplicable as your beauty, something else powerfully stimulates me. 'Tis the desire to cuckold Vitnègre. Wouldst such a thing were possible without obliterating your heavenly charms. Wouldst that all the men in the world could make use of your cunt that he might be universally cornute! Come, come give me my happiness." I was bearing her towards the divan when we heard a key turn in the door. I immediately hid myself in the other room. Vitnègre appeared with a young man in tow. We clearly heard him say before entering: "You've got the sort of prick that should fill the bill, and that's why for six bumfucked louis I'm letting you have a pucelage that's worth a thousand. Here's the way we'll go about it: I'll precede you and make as if to kill her. You'll beg me to spare her, and I'll only let her off if she seconds you in wishing to be encunted by you. My big-pricked clients are all annoyed not to be able to fuck or embugger her. They pay like the devil, you know. We get on very well from what she earns. I feed her excellent dinners.
Look at her: Chubby, wouldn't you say? But first of all you're to encunt her, that's a matter of pressing urgency. Tomorrow you'll stick it into her ass. That is an operation of secondary importance. Mind you, I adore her. If I treat her a little roughly, that's only to make her pliable, so that she'll bend to my will. I've earned three thousand francs from her and we've not been married longer than three months. Let's go in now. She'll ravish you. But show her no pity." Such was the monstrous Vitnègre's speech.
We did not wait to greet them. I pushed Conquette ahead of me, out of the house and straight to the pension. She wished however to accompany me back to get Connilette, the whore, an appetizing, well-decked specimen. Conquette preceded us. Fortified by my presence, she opened the door and entered. We followed her. I told Connilette to stretch out fuckably on the bed. My 'daughter' received the two libertines. They found her in superior form. The young man – he went by the name of L'Enfonceur – and Vitnègre himself vied with one another in praising her. Vitnègre, who was mad about her feet thus shod in high-heeled shoes, kissed her nether extremities, saying, "Ah, that's it, my dearie, let's go softly to work. I'd be the world's most unhappy man if I had to give up the idea of fucking you. You've got to be trimmed to measure, or rather enlarged: my prick's too stout. Unprepared, it would do you damage. Here's a better-proportioned device, which, without discharging, is going to perforate you. Thus pierced, you'll manage to accommodate my weightier instrument tonight – and I intend to bury it deep. Here, look at what I've brought you," and he pulled L'Enfonceur's prick out of hiding. L'Enfonceur? or was in Timon, the modestly-furnished poet? Yes, it seemed as though Vitnègre had not discovered his wife's predilection for that handsome taffy-haired youth, and he employed him in the following manner.
Upon recognizing her lover in the man her husband was bringing home to encunt her, my daughter blushed with modesty and desire. She found an opportunity to whisper in my ear: "Tell the whore to leave, we shan't be needing her tonight." I saw very clearly that Conquette was in a lather to be fucked by her gallant. I did not send away but concealed the whore, and there follows an account of what took place next.
Just as soon as Connilette was installed out of sight behind the large sofa, Conquette went in to join the two men who conveyed her to the locale selected for sport and had her sit bare-assed down upon their clasped hands. "Well, my little harlot of a wife, you're going to be depucelated at long last, thoroughly fucked upon this occasion," declared Vitnègre. "But never fear later on tonight you'll be bale to cope with a thick prick." He disposed her skirts and adjusted her. "Excellent. Now, L'Enfonceur, let me put your prick into the works. No, better still, by little helpmate will insert it herself. She must become accustomed to performing these chores." Vitnègre left the room. I remarked, however, that he had left the door ajar: whence I augured some villainous stunt, but I was there in case of need.
Speaking in a muffled voice, Timon said to my daughter: "Shall I put it in you?"
"No, no, he's gone off to get some listeners" – this word sent a chill through Timon. "But he'll maim you, you'll end up a cripple!"
"I don't sleep here anymore."
Satisfied by her short reply, the lover set forthwith to tonguing her cunt with great gentleness. The voluptuous girl discharged nonetheless. She was beside herself when I heard Vitnègre return with, I supposed, the monk. He entered rapidly, followed by three neighbors. "I'm going to show you precisely what I mean," said he and indeed he showed them something in the room.
At this point, however, my love-smitten daughter, yet impaled by her lover's vibrant tongue, pronounced a deep sigh. The three neighbors pricked up their ears. "Why, that must be my wife," said Vitnègre. "I didn't realize she was in the house. I've purchased that cloth for her."
"Oh, but she must see it, you must fetch her in," chorused the three neighbors. The monster bade them wait a moment – one of the neighbors indeed was about to go in search of Conquette. He took a candle, saying that he would find out first whether she were asleep. He reached the door, halted, and feigned a look of scorn and anger. He drew back, but over his shoulder the three neighbors had seen quite as well and as much as he: Conquette, half-naked, stretched out on her back upon the bed, a man's head nestled between her thighs. Vitnègre ushered the neighbors out by the corridor, all the while striking his forehead and uttering confused sentences.
He had attained his object: if during the night his wife were to scream and weep, the three neighbors would now know the reason why and would explain it to anyone else. If Madame Vitnègre were to perish, rent asunder by the monk's claymore (the monk, who was very rich, was to pay sixty thousands francs for his victim, several others of whom he had killed, since he always chose narrow-cunted prey) then it would be she who was in the wrong.
And now Vitnègre returned to the two lovers, who had altered their position. L'Enfonceur, after having spilled his seed upon the floor, had remounted upon my daughter's belly.
"Ha!" said the infamous husband, "have you run your peg all the way into her? Encunted her solidly? Have you discharged? And has she?"
"We have both discharged," replied Timon L'Enfonceur.
/> "I am going out now," said Vitnègre; "keep raking her out while I'm gone. I'll be back in thirty minutes. Don't be alarmed by what you are going to hear. I have my reasons for all this." He went into the hallway, opened the door quietly, and began to shout as if he were kicking his wife about like a football: "Bitch! Slut! Whore! You fuck when I'm abroad, do you! Slime! Fuck-bibbler! Ass-wipe! You screw, eh! Well, I'm going to the police, do you understand? I've had enough of this." He noisily opened the door, then slammed it, but before departing he whispered to the impassioned couple: "Wiggle your ass, bounce it, my dearie. Courage, L'Enfonceur, dig in, scrape the barrel clean." L'Enfonceur, puzzled, watched Vitnègre go.
"A nasty ruse, that one," I whispered to my daughter. "The monk plans to kill you, and Vitnègre is neglecting nothing to motivate your death."
"Save us," she said, terror in her voice.
"No, we're numerous enough to protect you. Pretend to Timon that I'm about to arrive here."
Timon re-entered the boudoir. "Here is Papa," said Conquette. "He's just come, thank heaven."
"Ah, yes," said Timon, "his presence will shield us, for I was about to propose that we flee from this place. But let's wait and see what happens." Timon and I conferred. I pointed to where Connilette lay hiding and outlined our scheme, which he thought marvelous. However, time was rushing by. Timon carried the light back into the boudoir, my daughter and I hid ourselves while the young man and Connilette adopted an intimate posture upon the bed.
"Be careful," she warned him. "Keep your prick at a distance, for I'm in bad shape, my boy, don't let yours balls touch my hair, I've got crabs."
Wherewith Vitnègre and the monk made their entry. The neighbors clustered at the window took the holy man for the chief of police.
Chapter Six
Now we are coming to some first-rate fuckeries, those in which my delicious Conquette Ingénue and my ravishing Victoire Conquette are to show their true mettle and whence they are to emerge seasoned veterans, making their fortunes and mine thereby, and losing thereunto a false delicacy and overnice scruples which always bar the road to prosperity. The régime I chose for the education of those dazzling creatures and their companions may perhaps startle the reader but, as in all other things, he would best suspend his criticism and judge only by the outcome.