The Confessions of Nemesis Hunt (1902)

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Below is the raw OCR of The Confessions of Nemesis Hunt. 

This originated as a semi-fictional 'autobiography' of a young girl who makes her way in the bohemian and theatrial society of 1890s London and published serially in the 90s periodical Society, it was written by George Reginald Bacchus (1873-1845), a theatrical critic, novelist and man-about town, who was married to the actress Isa Bowman (former 'child-friend' of Lewis Carroll), and on whose experiences he loosely based the story. Bacchus was a close friend of the publisher Leonard Smithers, and on the completion of the serial publication, Smithers evidently persuaded Bacchus to provide him with a pornographic version, which he proceeded to issue in three volumes spread over the next 5 years.  See Mendes 141

The Confessions of Nemesis Hunt.

[by George Reginald Baccus]

London

Privately printed

1902

CHAPTER I
Jean and I and a Miss Latouche, a new arrival and an obvious tart, all had rooms in the same house. Our bedrooms adjoined on the ground floor, Miss Latouche was upstairs; as far as I could see, the family all slept in the kitchen.
We arrived at Kingstown Monday morning and went straight to the rooms for breakfast. I was bewildered with delight at the thought of a long day with Jean, but to my disgust he went out directly after the meal and did not return till five minutes late for the 4:30 meal (dinner) much the worse for liquor. He had met a lot of friends, he said. Dinner over, he went to bed in a drunken sleep, out of which we had to shake him when theatre time came.
"You mustn't worry, Kid," said Miss Latouche, "you'll find actors are all very much the same, very selfish."
At the theatre Restall took me aside. "I gather from the actress's book that you are living at the same rooms as Jean Messel. I think you're a little fool, that's all!"
I was too much in love to worry and after the theatre that night Jean more than made up for the desertion. A pleasant little supper was followed by the speedy disappearance of Miss Latouche to bed, and half an hour's indelicate fondling in front of the fire was followed by bed for us two also. It is of little use for me to attempt to describe what followed.
First fucks are bound to be much the same, all the world over. It was simply animal and brutal. He had me twice without uncunting as the vulgar put it; it was a paroxysm of gluttonous lust. How I enjoyed the contact of his naked body with mine, I cannot describe. The warm flood of his sperm within me was maddeningly joyous! He was largely built and hurt me not a little at first, but even in the pain there was pleasure. After the second fuck was completed. Jean got up and found a real
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"fucksome drink" as he called it—a bottle of nicely wanned Burgundy.
It's Gladys again interrupting. "I'm sorry to stop you, dearest," she apologized, "but when you start talking of fucksome drinks, you're in the presence of one who knows. This is the best drink for two persons, take one quart bottle of champagne and four eggs. Divide bottle into four large glasses, break egg in each, and drink, then fuck!"
To continue: Jean and I bathed in the warmth of each other's loving flesh, while the fingers of the clock ran round. He swore to me that he would be true, sure indeed that he had been true since he knew me, qualifying that under cross-examination, with the admission that he had allowed girls to play with it in their mouths but he didn't consider that much. And I believe that many men are of his way of thinking. Bar the actual fuck, they think that no other sexual intimacy counts as an act of infidelity.
We were too tired or too careless to make any bones about respectability that night at any rate, so after another battle of love, we fell asleep where we were, naked and gripped together, with Jean's penis still sweltering in the grip of my cunt muscles.
I shall never forget the awakening. I was in the midst of a dream that I was the cook in an expedition to the Polar regions and that the sailors had insisted on taking my clothing from me and were fucking me one by one on the ice, till I complained of the cold, so the Captain slapped my naked body all over—when my eyes struggled to open and I realized that I had been the victim of a very real slap indeed.
Above us two naked culprits, towered the landlady, virtuous wrath flaming from her eyes— and oh, it was cold, cold ashes in the grate and a cold blast of air from the wide open window.
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"Get up, ye low bitch, ye disgrace on yer sex, ye fornicating cow of an Englishwoman, get up and let me turn yez naked as ye are, in the Streets, aye, even as Adam and Eve."
I couldn't help laughing through all my shame and discomfort at the comparison, but at that moment, Jean awoke also and detached himself from me—I may mention that there was an audible pop as his penis left its snug sleeping place.
We both burbled our expostulations, but in vain. "Out yez go!" was the cry, and her brother, a great lumbering heft of an Irishman, burst through the door to lend force to the argument.
"Patrick, heft them forth," said the indignant one, and Patrick actually laid hands on my naked body. Jean made a spring as if to tear him from me but one thrust from the giant's arm was enough to propel him reeling back against the sideboard. He fell rather foolishly in his nakedness into the coal scuttle and I couldn't help but smile, terrible though the position was, when I noticed the effect of the coals upon his bare bottom...
But the situation was altering. It was not every day that Brother Pat had a beautiful naked young girl in his two hands, and the effect on him was magical. Glancing over his shoulder as if apprehensive of an attack in the rear from the semi-blackened Jean, he shouted for Shamus and Shamus rolled up, another uncouth lad, only about 19 I should say; but quite enough to keep Jean a prisoner.
I realized that I was helpless. "Turn the hussy out naked into the strate," shrieked the landlady once more—but Patrick's fingers were feeling the lower part of my body. Patrick had me gripped to his stomach and something swelling in Patrick's trousers made him hesitate.
"Ye hear what she's saying," the giant whispered.
I was mute.
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"But ef ye'll jes be kind to me..."
I knew what was coming, knew too that resistance was useless. But Jean blustered:
"We are a married couple, and we'll have the law on you!" he threatened.
"And I'll put the law on you," was the ready retort of the landlady, "don't I know that ye are married to another woman, eh, Mister Messel, and it'll serve the hussy right if Patrick does jest as he loikes wid her."
Brother Shamus gave the clue. "Let's fuck the lass and let her go free," he grunted in anticipation of a coarse scene, "eh, Mary?"
"You boys can do what yer loike, I'll nay say ye nay," said the landlady.
"I'm dying with cold!" I protested.
"Well, come into the kitchen," was the answer to that.
And into the kitchen we were marched—or rather the giant Irishman carried me, while his brother, pinioning Jean's arms behind him, followed, the landlady bringing up the rear, carrying our rugs which she piled before the great fire.
It must have been a strange scene. I lay helpless on the pile of rugs; of course, resistance was useless but I am ashamed to say I felt a little pleasurable curiosity. I took the hot whiskey the landlady gave me and never moved as the great clown of a youth pawed my body and limbs all over under pretence of warming me. The landlady balanced herself on the edge of a table, her old eyes eager with lust.
The brother had tied Jean up with a couple of thongs and he sat helpless on a chair.
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There was an awkward pause, for Patrick was a little shy. I surmise the idea of fucking me had been a sudden thought, the possibility of realization had scarcely occurred to him. I lay before him a flesh dish fit for a king, while the dotard fool fumbled with his trousers. What a thing was presented when Patrick's trousers at last slipped from their fastenings. It slapped up against his belly, a good ten inches of it, and thicker round than my wrist—and so healthy looking and clean. He dropped on his knees and placed his huge hands on my waist. The coarse touch of his clothes irritated me and I struggled away, but fighting was useless; he shifted his hands, pulled my legs apart and the next moment that mighty instrument was touching my clitoris. With one hand he held me down and with the other he guided the tip of his penis into me.
For a moment the pain was intense; it was so big, but once it was in, rapture overcame me. The affair was not long, a stroke or two and the prick was in to the hilt. I seemed almost split in two, but the pleasure was extraordinary. Then he "came", in fact the outpourings were simultaneous, and I chanced to look at Jean. To my amazement his prick was stiff. I didn't know so much then as I do now about the excitement that contemplation of another's acts of fornication could excite in a man.
I have been with a good many men in my time and I know something of the feeling of the spunk-jets within one. But never have I had such a dousing. It overflowed and my legs were covered with the strong, sticky liquid. Patrick shuffled to his feet and buttoned his member back into his trousers. I fainted away!
When I came to, I was in bed with the landlady by my side. I don't think the lust had quite left her eyes, but she was apologetic. "'Twas a mad, mad thing to do," she crooned, "but I was that wild at finding yez naked, and tied like dogs yez were, but I'd have let my wickedness go ungainsayed, I wud. Know yez not that ony soul can cum intil yer room of a morning and by St. Patrick, had it been the praste, its the police he would ha called, and me wid nivir a lodger in the house agin, if not put
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to jail. Sure too, it wasna such a bad thing for a coleen likes of ye to be mated with Patrick Henessey, the biggest man of all the town, sure there's mony an eye after him."
"Oh, I daresay," I admitted feebly, "we were wrong and perhaps the punishment was not so bad, but think of the scandal if it were found out."
"Found out," she cried, "not one word shall be breathed outside this house; and to shame your blushes, Shamus and Patrick will be in the country for the rest of the week; my darter will come and see to things for yez."
I think Jean was inclined to bluster and talk of moving elsewhere, but I was terrified of a scandal and a move would have necessitated all sorts of explanations. Probably the arrival of the daughter satisfied him, for she was a delicate sample of a cuddlesome, bonny Irish girl, of whom the old hag of a mother was justly proud, and explained that she kept her away in the country owing to the fear that the young sparks of Dublin would "cross" her.
"A virgin she is!" she exclaimed with some pride, as if the article was a rarity. "Not even the praste has touched her yet."
"The priest!" I said, amazed at the suggestion.
"Arrah, of course, who but the praste is better to take the coleen's maidenhead? Shure niver a sowl crossed me afore I was wed to my own man but the howly father, and a red-headed child did I bear to his reverence."
I concealed my astonishment at the time, but I subsequently learned that the priests had a pretty fair run of the fair frequenters at confession. I wonder they had missed our little maid, Kathleen. About seventeen she was, full fledged and full figured for her age, with firm
7
round breasts, a marble pillar of a neck, luscious lips, and great loving eyes.
The week slipped quickly by and I was very happy. Jean was sweet to me and never alluded to the awkward affair in the kitchen. He made no more pretence and with the landlady's full consent, brazenly slept with me. What halcyon nights those were. I was in perfect state of animal health and my body incessantly ready for lustful caresses. Jean did his very best; he trained for it, abjured whiskey and drank lots of Burgundy. His cock, of course, was not often in that state of erection as I could wish but it was seldom that he could not oblige me in some way.
Our day's programme was fairly regular. The landlady brought a cup of tea at 8:45. This consumed, I let my hand slide over Jean's body till I discovered the state of his penis. If it wasn't stiff, a little delicate manipulation of the finger tips soon settled that; sometimes I had to dive my head beneath the bedclothes and press my lips to its reluctant tip—that always did the trick AT ONCE—the dear thing shot up in-stanter, his hands gripped me and in a moment his warm belly was pressed on mine—we always slept stark naked. That fuck—the first—was always generally very quick.
After that we bathed and played about with each other till after breakfast, which we took in dressing gowns. We had fine appetites for that and the meal gave us an appetite for more fucking. This (the second fuck) was always more elaborate. We tried various ways, nature had given him a long flexible tongue, which he could run far into my quivering vagina. But this second séance generally ended in legitimate fashion.
So much for the morning. I went with Jean to the theatre, we looked at our letters, etc., and then I left him with the boys to play billiards or to drink, or to do what he liked. During that time, as often as not, I went for walks by myself or sometimes with one of the girls—but I was not too popular in the company. I was, frankly, too pretty, and my affair
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with Jean to say nothing of the obvious attention paid me by Restall, created a great deal of jealousy.
We dined at 2:30, smoked and chatted till four as a rule, a pleasant time of laziness and gossip, and then went to "lie down" till theatre time. That same lying down meant something else of course. I always took off nearly everything, and Jean undressed to his shirt. Then we had an hour's improper caressing, an hour's improper talk, and a long, long, fuck. Then I generally got on top of Jean, for I was afraid the burden of his weight might tire me for the theatre—no amount of fucking ever could.
At 6:30 we were called for tea and at 7:15 we were generally in the theatre. Sometimes a little love-making happened during the show. Jean had a dressing room to himself—and a long wait. I used to slip in and talk to him. Of course he could do nothing to me because of my tights, but I loved him enough to forgo my share of the pleasure and minister to his needs by sucking him—though, gentle readers, that is no inconsiderable pleasure for a girl who is wicked-natured, and who is fond of man.
And now we come to the night. We always had three fucks before finally going to sleep. It didn't hurt me, I was as strong as a tigress and could have obliged ten men a day, had I not been so fond of Jean.
I was honestly, gaily (if wickedly) happy! Till the Saturday night of the week. Jean had a very bad throat, it was obviously impossible for him to sing and he gave his understudy a chance.
It was not till we were half way through the first act that I remembered that I had given the landlady a ticket at the theatre that night and consequently Jean was left all alone with the bewitchingly pretty little daughter. That fact gave me a pang, but I dismissed the suspicion as unworthy.
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I saw the old landlady sitting in front alone, the daughter was obviously at home, and I think it was in turning my head to look at her once more that I tripped on a brace in making my exit, in Act II, and fell heavily, turning my foot; further work was of course out of the question for me. They put me in a cab and bundled me home.
I unlocked the front door with my key and slipped in. The sitting room was empty, but there was a streak of light under the bedroom door. I turned the handle softly and went in.
It had happened! They were in there, naked as the first inhabitants of the Garden of Eden and hard at it, so engrossed, that for a moment they did not see me.
Jean was working for all he was worth, and the little Irish bitch had him gripped as in a vice. So beautiful did the girl look, what I could see of her, that I forgot to be angry. Then feeling rather foolish and as I noticed how engrossed they were—they were obviously nearing the end, judging by the panting breaths—I slipped out of the room and made a great clatter in the dining room.
Presently the girl came out; she looked very sheepishly at me. "Mister Messel had not been so well," she mumbled, "and I've been making a poultice for his poor throat."
A nice sort of poultice I thought to myself, a sort of flesh poultice, that a good many men would like.
I made no answer and the girl went into the kitchen.
"Is that you, Nemmy?" came in Jean's tones.
"Yes!" and I went in.
"Why are you home so early?"
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"I slipped and hurt myself."
"I am sorry."
"And so am I, rather," I said, "I'd rather not have known what I do now; I'd rather have been able to trust you. Couldn't you be true to me— after all our love, this week too?"
"I've done nothing!"
"Don't talk nonsense. I came into the room a moment ago but you were so full of your dirt that you didn't see me. Isn't one woman enough for you? You ought to be so glad to have a girl like me for your own, that no other woman could possibly attract you."
He made lame excuses, far the best being that he took it as a form of revenge for what happened to me at the beginning of the week.
It was not till after supper, when I had my ankle bandaged and was resting more comfortably and was more, kindly disposed towards the world, that he made candid confessions. It was the old story—that attraction of virginity—"not even the priest had crossed her" and there was a flood of blood on the bed to prove it; Jean had the pluck to slice his arm with a razor to account for that.
Under the influence of several drinks and a good deal of affectionate fumbling, I listened to the beast's proud story of how he made the girl consent.
It was simply a question of money and only a promise at that; which he probably would never have fulfilled if I had not kept him to it—she had her new dress.
I suppose I ought not to have blamed him, the girl was too beautiful to have been left alone near any man.
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In the morning she made an opportunity to speak to me alone and confessed (of course she guessed that I knew) begging me not to tell. She kissed my hands when I promised not to, and somehow or other I felt sorry for her. She was so very pretty.
I was glad to leave Ireland, the week had been a trying one. We slipped into a regular routine of touring life, a little monotonous but always enjoyable to me. I loved my work at the theatre and of course I loved my intercourse with Jean. We got on smoothly enough, save when he got drunk, and he had not a very strong head. But I forgave him a lot because he was so true to me, and I was always true to him.
"Always, Nemmy?" interrupts the irrepressible typewriter.
Well—all but once. This is a very serious confession, but it has to come out, and my readers must take it and say no more about it, for it concerns people who must not be chatted frivolously about.
We were playing at Liverpool and in the audience was a very august personage, who of course, must be nameless. The party came to the theatre late. As luck would have it, I was playing a principal part that night and I was rattling through in particularly good form. The theatre was crammed, everything merry and bright, and everyone complimented me on my appearance.
I noticed that I came in for a lot of attention from the box whose occupants were supposed to be incognito—it was quite a fusillade of opera glasses, and when the curtain fell for the last time I saw two of the said occupants standing in the wings. Restall touched my shoulder as I was leaving the stage. "I want you to come out to supper with me tonight, child," he said, "with ..." and he whispered, "but of course you must forget it afterwards."
I was a little doubtful and told Jean. "Go! I should think you ought to go," was his decision, "you don't get a chance of hobnobbing with folk like that every day. Put on your nicest things, I'll wait up." 12
Restall fetched me from my room. "You haven't told any of the girls?" he queried.
"Not one."
"That's a good little girl. Now this is a great compliment. He thinks a lot of you, and has sent some very complimentary messages."
The august party occupied a suite of rooms in a big hotel, entrance to which was gained through a private door in a side street. Restall and I were met in an anteroom by two young-old men, who were more or less 'hail fellow well met' with Restall, and very polite to me.
We had sherry and in a moment or two a door opened and the august personage appeared, and made himself promptly very pleasant. He spoke English with a great deal of difficulty and seemed very pleased that I spoke French. I was very nervous and frankly glad when a lady joined us.
Who she was, I did not know, but she was English and pleasant and pretty, though obviously verging on middle age. Her complexion was still fresh and the extreme décolletage of her dress showed to their fullest advantage a pair of breasts, firm, round, and upstanding...The nipples were barely concealed, and she wore no shoulder straps. It was one of those dresses which kept up with 'tact and luck', and necessitated shaving under the armpits. She soon made me feel at home.
Supper was bright and decorous; Restall was amusing and I was content to look nice. I suppose I succeeded for the Hereditary Grand Duke of... (you see readers, it was quite whom you expected) never took his eyes off me, and if I know anything about glances, those eyes were in telegraphic communication with a stiffly standing prick underneath to the table cloth.
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Supper over, Madame took me into an adjoining room, a cosy sort of room with subdued lights and delicate perfumes. She sank with a swish of her skirts into a corner of a luxurious divan, and lay there, showing her stockings to the garters, while she lazily lit a cigarette. I tumbled to the game in a minute when she began to pump me about my morals.
From "I suppose actresses have a great many admirers?" came a delicately graded series of questions, and more than one hint that there was expensive jewellery in the air of this particular room, for any pretty, if improper little girl, who chose to go the right way about earning it. At last I surprised her by my bluntness.
"I quite understand," I said. "His Highness wants me, and your job is to find out whether I'll let him...well...I will."
"You are a little angel to save me so much trouble," she cooed, delightedly rising to her feet and crossing to me. "His Highness is mad for you and my life has been a burden I can tell you. Thank Heaven, this party is arranged at last. No one will ever know, and His Highness you may be sure, will not be mean."
"It isn't that..." I began.
"No, no, I dare say not, my dear; but valuable presents of jewellery are always acceptable to the most moral of us, and especially when they come from Royal Dukes..."
"But I mustn't say..." I interrupted.
"Oh, yes, you may...If I know Serge, you will find some little inscription about your art, etc., that will make the display of your present quite all right. Serge is no novice...but seriously, he is a great deal in love with you...and...stop me if I anger you...if I were you, I would let him get me with child. If the result is anything like its royal father, you may find yourself mother of a Duke...things like that still happen in South-eastern Europe."
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I laughed and blushed but the idea commended itself to me.
"Well, dear, don't think of me only as procuress," whispered Madame, kissing me lovingly, "you won't regret this, and Serge is no mean performer either...I can vouch for that"...and with a laugh, "You'll find the bedroom through these curtains;" she slipped from the room.
In the bedroom I found everything the most fastidious woman might want. I came into the sitting room. Whether I was expected to undress and wait in bed, I do not know, but at any rate I did not, Royal Highness or not, he must make some kind of a bluff at love-making before he got me.
A huge mirror confronted the corner of the divan that Madame had just vacated and there I arranged myself. Not too suggestively but with an air of comfortable naughtiness which should tell a man that his evening was not going to be wasted.
The divan was covered with an immense bear skin and my flesh showed very white against the dead black of the fur. I drank two glasses of crème de menthe and lit a perfumed cigarette. When in the bedroom I had withdrawn most of the pins from my head, so that very little disarrangement would allow my hair to fall in all its glory. Thus I waited.
He was a long time and my cunt moistened with anticipation. That I did not wish and I had only finished wiping it dry again, when the door opened to admit His Highness.
"At last I may tell you, adorable little English girl, how I have admired your acting at the theatre," he murmured, his lips almost touching my ear and his hot breath causing a delicious excitement to my naked throat.
"Your praise is—"
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I was interrupted again. His Highness put his arm around my waist while his other hand began to toy with my breasts. I made no resistance and his lips pursued mine, which were instantly joined in a long, luscious biting kiss. I slipped further and further on my back and was almost in a horizontal position when the kiss came to an end.
My legs were opened wide and I was ready to be fucked, but he pulled me back in a sitting posture, knelt by my side and for the first time I had a sight of the royal prick, and a very decent sized one it was. He had guided my hands to it, throwing back his head with a far away look in his eyes, and as my fingers played with it, his whole body quivered. Then, with a touch of his hand, he bent my head down, I took the hint, and my lips and tongue were soon busy with the throbbing gland.
He seemed to go mad with pleasure; his fingers feverishly toyed with my hair; his body twisted in every direction. He moaned, ejaculated, and almost screamed. His prick stiffened till it seemed like cast iron.
"Bite it!" he cried.
I did.
"Harder! Harder!"
I bit as hard as I dared, never for a moment relaxing the lightning movements of my tongue. His fingers left my hair and played with my ears, my cheeks, the comers of my lips, even as they quivered round his burning penis... At last they caught my breasts and each little hard standing nipple was caressed by his fingers, his prick stiffened to such an alarming extent that I knew the end was near. A violent convulsion of the body, an upward-jerk of the prick and my mouth was filled with spurt after spurt of semen.
As for me, I wanted to be fucked, willing enough as I was to play the gamahuche game, but my cunt actually ached for relief. I had no
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thought whatever for Jean during the evening. Anybody could have fucked me at that moment, but particularly did I want the royal member, now, alas, dangling rather weakly against his trousers.
His Highness crossed to a little table, filled two brimming glasses of champagne from an open bottle, which I had not perceived. Was it possible that someone, Madame for instance, had entered while I was sucking him?
We talked very little. I fondled his hair and face while his hands wandered nervously over my calves. Occasionally I let my fingers fall on his inert cock and a little flicker rewarded me.
But I was too hot for dalliance. I flung my body over his, thrust my tongue into his mouth, and at the same time violently frigged his shrunken prick. It had the desired result. He stiffened and thrust me from him.
"Undress, my adorable little darling!" he whispered.
Standing before him, I did so, slowly and deliberately, allowing his lustful eyes to gloat severally over the varied charms that came to view.
I showed my breasts first; as I flung the corsets and stood with only a transparent chemise round me, and as that slipped to my feet, he stood up, his cock rampant, and pressed my naked body to him.
I pulled his tie undone and jerked the collar from its studs. Presently I felt his trousers slipping and I pulled them eagerly to his ankles, lifted his feet and got rid of the tiresome things. To ease him of the rest of his things did not take long and there we were, both naked.
In a moment, he was fucking me in the usual way, flat on my back, with my legs twisted round his calves, his arms round my back, mine round
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his, his cock banged in up to the hilt, his tongue in my mouth, working for all he knew.
It was a short, sharp fuck, a strong animal feeling pervading it from start to finish; no brain excitement; purely pleasure, the fuck that means children as a rule.
We both spent together and remembering Ma-dame's injunction about getting in the family way, I was anxious lest he carry me into the bedroom an introduce me to the syringe, so I feigned faintness and fell back helplessly on the couch.
My exalted lover was most concerned; he bathed my forehead with brandy, and began to get nervous so I judged it best to recover, lest he summon Madame to his aid. With a sigh and a nicely spoken "Where am I?" I gently came to.
After that we went to bed, His Highness assured me that no one would know of my staying there for the night, which meant, I suppose, that everyone would know, but no one would dare say anything. There was no more fucking. The room was deliciously warmed and we slept naked, clasped in each other's arms, but barring a prolonged kissing of my body, which included a short journey of his tongue up my cunt, there was no more sexual familiarity.
When I awoke, a stray beam of light through the shutter illumined the clock face and showed that it was mid-day. I sat up with a start, disengaging myself from the bare arms that were still round me. My royal lover came to his senses with a grunt.
"I must go!" I said.
"But you must have breakfast..." as I seemed to De about to leave the bed. I was really rather scared of Jean, now that I had come to my proper senses, and wanted to be back and explaining.
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"No, no, my dearest precious one; you snail not go till it is full time for the theatre to begin once more. No, it is useless to protest."
I let myself be pulled back on his naked hairy breast and kissed lovingly. I suffered his vagrant hand to play with my cunt which did not feel particularly saucy; it wasn't awake at present, but I suffered him to draw my hand to his prick, which was swollen to a considerably greater extent than the night before. I resigned myself to the morning fuck, but nothing more happened.
"We must have tea and things," he said, "but I cannot summon my man."
"I'll get up and go," I volunteered.
"No, no, darling," he answered, "I have not begun to enjoy you yet."
"Well, I will hide in the bathroom, while you ring for your man."
"No, no," he pressed me to him and his prick seemed so stiff that I thought it would stab into my stomach. "Would you mind, darling, if Madame Kahn...she suspects, you may guess; if Madame were to come?"
"Of course, I know she knows," I laughed, "Madame has to find you all your little delights, is it not so?"
He brought over a bottle of champagne and filled glasses and as we sipped the champagne, he said: "Madame Kahn is a genius. She shall die a Countess if only for her success in bringing you, ma petite, to my bed. For fifteen years she has never failed to get me all my body desires; she has worked marvels!
"I cannot mention names, dearest, but Madame Kahn has so seduced the minds of the highest ladies in your land, that I have had the lips of
19
one of the Duchesses pressed close round that thing you have in your pretty hands.
"Ah, Madame, she collects for me the spectacle of little girls who cuddle each other, till I spend at the sight. Little girls and boys, as young as ten years, who toy with each other's naked bodies...
"But enough, I excite myself too much. If you wish, Madame shall find a spectacle which you shall see also."
I was possessed of a feeling of lazy naughtiness by this time. But I thought it would be very nice to see the spectacle but kept my modesty. "Oh, no," I whispered, breathing hotly into his ear, "but I don't mind if she comes in here."
There was a little telephone at the side of the bed and a momentary conversation elicited the fact that Madame Kahn would be with us in a moment.
"She hopes I enjoyed my night," chuckled His Highness, "ma foi, but I have!"
Madame arrived, severely gowned in a tailor-made short-skirted costume. A heavy veil was drawn over her hat, and a leather coat hung on her arm. She looked smart and fascinating.
"Well, you lazy people," she exclaimed: "I thought you were going to make a day of it. I was just going to Southport or somewhere for a breath of sea air."
"Bonne idee," said my royal mash, "but keep back the coach, chere amie, in an hour la petite and myself will be ready and we can all go. Veux tu, cherie?"
I was game, in fact I felt the need of a little ozone.
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Madame sat on the edge of the bed. "Well, my naughty little darling, satisfied, eh?"
I felt myself blushing. "Oh, very, very, Madame," I faltered.
"He is very naughty, our tres bon garcon. I tell him sometimes he will kill himself with love, twenty four virgins in one night is Serge's record."
I am afraid I looked incredulous. "It is true, ma petite marmite; it was a night of nights, I will tell you..."
"Now, now," interrupted His Serenity, "we perish of hunger, order at once some tea and some anchovy toast, and such a dainty dejeuner as you alone can think of, to follow, and send Gustave."
Madame went.
"I should like to hear about the virgins," I said.
"Directly when she returns, she tells it better than I."
There came a knock on the door and His Highness put on a voluminous dressing gown and went into the next room. I heard scraps of the conservation he had with Gustave.
His return was simultaneous with that of Madame Kahn and the tea and toast and nice little liqueurs of rum to put into the tea.
She slipped one arm around my shoulders, and slid her other hand onto my clitoris. "Veux tu, Serge?"
"Mais certainment. C'est un peu hardie. L'adventure, mais si la petite."
Of course, I don't mind what I hear. I ran my hand down his stomach, it was stiff again.
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"Well, you must know, that there is a little town in the dominions of Serge, where there are very many women but few men. The girl children are put to work early, and there are very many virgins. In the neighbourhood there is a great royal chateau.
"Well, after a hunting party, Serge must tell of all these virgins and young Prince..."
"No names," interrupted H. R. H.
"Well, this Prince proposed that there being many noblemen present, they should deflower the virgins that very night!"
"Oh," I cried, "dreadful!"
"My little one, things are different in Eastern Europe, and his Highness is well beloved. Not one father or mother in that town but would consider it an honour, for their child to be violated by His Highness or his noble friends.
"A consultation was held, a trusty man sent for. He was to procure assistants and with all speed, gather all the virgins over ten years of age."
"Ten!"
"We mature quicker in the East, dear! Well, in three hours, he promised all would be there:
"It was left to me to ensure that the other ladies of the party repaired to another wing of the house. All, save I and the Duchess V..., the most abandoned and witty old woman in Europe, and Olga F..., His Highness' favourite mistress, who minded nothing.
"The overseer appeared in the doorway; behind him eleven figures, girls from ten to seventeen, in gala costume.
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"'Eleven, is that all?' says Serge.
"'Your Highness, but I make bold to present these little ones first. These four are my own daughters,' indicating the front rank, he put his hand on one of the girls. 'Olga,' he said, 'she is sixteen and considered the most beautiful girl in the place. Have I pleased your Highness?'
"Serge pulled out a handful of notes.
"More and more virgins arrived. Some plain— some ugly; one hundred and fifty-two there were in all, the majority very pleasant to look at.
"There were fifteen men of all ages, from old General Souroff, sixty years of age, to a nineteen-year-old lieutenant. The gambling spirit obtained. The men proceeded to the hall and began leisurely to undress, immense erect pricks becoming visible in each case. Only the General displayed a limp penis, but Olga F., with the consent of Serge, sucked it till it showed a real determination.
"The conditions were these: Fifteen large mattresses were brought and placed at intervals down the room. Each man, in order of rank, was to choose ten to start on. And as soon as he should finish his ten, he was at liberty to take from his neighbour any left over and still un-fucked. Unless the girls bled and the man spent, it did not count.
"Our Serge had a brilliant idea. The first virgin seduced by him should for the remainder of the contest, act as umpire, while we women should take two couches each.
"I superintended the undressing or the little ones; the men were by this time all naked, reclining on their couches, jesting, drinking champagne and making side bets.
"The little ones naked, made a pretty sight. In only a few cases was there hair on their little cunts. We had ten servant girls to attend to our requests, who were also naked. The room was a riot of nakedness. 23
"There were bets, the odds at the starting ran: even money on Captain Ivan X...twenty-seven years old, a strapping Cossack officer, six-foot-three with the figure of a Hercules. He looked magnificent as he stood erect in all his naked glory and I rather pitied the little ones who were to undergo the torture of that iron-hard rod which stiffened up against his stomach. I felt terribly randy myself.
"There were odds of two-to-one on Serge, and on the Prince M., a young Frenchman. Serge had first choice. He naturally took the overseer's oldest daughter; she knelt very gracefully and kissed his standing prick. Nine others he chose.
"His ten were marshalled by the couch, each following the example of the first. The other men chose quickly, till all the bands were ready.
"Each man laid his first on the couch, a cushion under each little bottom, opened out their legs and waited for the signal which was a whistle from me. The naked servants, their eyes aflame with lust, waited with refreshments, hot water and towels. I put the score on the blackboard.
"At the blow of the whistle, fifteen male bodies fell simultaneously on fifteen frightened little girls, and fifteen pricks tried to penetrate the vaginas of their victims. Screams rent the air, it was like a battlefield.
"The first bout was short, four or five strokes —piercing cry from the girl, and the Captain Ivan withdrew his prick, stained with the blood and semen. He carried the child across the room to one of the couches, had his cock washed by a maid, and was onto and into his second victim before Serge had finished with a mighty thrust. His girl clung to him, never uttered a cry, but kissed him and murmured loving words, but the blood streamed down her legs. She washed herself.
"To shorten the story, at the end of half an hour, Serge and Ivan were score five all. By general consent, a halt was called and champagne
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and brandy were greedily swallowed. The maids saw that the cunts of those who had been deflowered were soothed with ointment.
"Most of the men vaselined their cocks again —that was allowed—and a general flow of filthy talk ran round the room.
"Then the fucking was resumed, for another thirty minutes and the General was ahead with twelve to his credit. A halt was called again and supper was served. Serge ate and drank heavily with his first virgin seated on his naked knee.
"Drink and the lustful scene that followed had rendered the children bawdy minded in the extreme; they longingly caressed the bodies of their seducers, told dirty stories of their doings at school, and all hoped they might come again. They put sweets up their cunts and let the men draw them out with their tongues. They sucked each other for our edification. The atmosphere of the room was very hot and lust reigned supreme.
"With the resumption, Serge had a beautiful girl of sixteen to deal with and instead of attending to his business and getting the fuck over, he dallied long after her maidenhead was gone. He finally consented to finish, seeing that the other men were getting ahead of him. That girl I may mention, is now my maid; you'll see her later," added Madame.
"Till then Serge had been fucking in the ordinary manner but now he changed. Calling for a pile of cushions, he lay back on them in a semi-sitting position and as each girl was presented he sat her, or rather screwed her onto his prick, and moving the girl up and down with his powerful hands, literally tossed himself off with her. He seemed to be possessed of tremendous strength.
"He sipped champagne between each girl but did not rise. Even when he wanted to make water, a servant brought a vessel and held it for him.
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"All artifices were used to procure new erections; birches were even used, and the ex-victims sucked their cock and licked their hair, ears and eyes, all over their body, their balls, and little tongues took turns in darting up an arse; they pissed little streams over the bodies. Finally there remained only three girls. There were only the two men, who agreed to take a fifteen minutes' rest, but at the end of that time, neither were properly stiff despite unflagging attempts on our parts. They had their bodies sponged clean and both men offered the girls large sums should they win, and the little devils, randy to the bursting point, with the vice they had seen, wriggled.
"'I'll be buggered if I lose,' shouted Ivan.
"That's a bet then,' replied Serge. 'If I win, I will bugger you."
"'A hundred you can't get into him and spend,' cried one of the society women present, a Duchess.
"'That's a bet then,' answered Serge. 'If I win, I will bugger him and fuck you, too, afterwards, Duchess.'
"The old Duchess reddened. It was a long time since a well-favoured young man had suggested such a thing. She only had boys and soldiers whom she paid.
"A smothered cry from the girl, Ivan's cock slipped in and blood trickled onto my hands. He had the maidenhead first, but could he spend? The tears were streaming down the girl's cheeks but she worked bravely in unison with him.
"At the same moment Serge with a great thrust, brought the blood from his girl but he did not spend either until Olga pressed her red lips to his and said, 'Think of me, George darling,' and suddenly his still erect cock bubbling with sperm, burst. He had won.
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"The final fuck was a matter of form. Fortified by caviar, champagne, pate de fois gras, and champagne, he fucked the last one easily and quickly.
"He marshalled the twenty-four little victims who carried his card on their ribbons, kissed them all and sent them off to the stewardess to get money and clothes, all save the pretty darling whom he intended to keep, and the performance was closed, as far as the children were concerned.
"The house party remained and for an hour bawdy conversation dealing principally with what was going to happen to Ivan and the Duchess prevailed.
"At last Serge declared himself ready. He did not need any frigging. He had not done such a thing since the old days in the military school, he said. Ivan the giant blushed like a girl, as we placed him in a position. No ointment was needed, I licked his arsehole first, then placing my fingers in my dripping cunt, anointed his hole with spend. Olga licked and spat on Serge's cock. It was iron stiff and greasy but it did not go in without a struggle. It hurt poor Ivan at first but once in, he seemed, from the quivering of his body, to like it, and gradually his cock stiffened. Quick as lightning, Olga flung herself underneath him, guided his cock in her, flung her lively legs round both their bodies, for Serge was bending over Ivan, and fucked voluptuously. The culmination was mutual and the three bodies collapsed limply together, poor Olga nearly crushed by the weight of the two heavy men.
"'Now, for Madame la Duchesse!' was the general shout, as Serge withdrew his dripping cock.
"Serge needed no rest, he seemed endowed with new life. The wicked old Duchess lay down on a couch, a little wine was given her as jumping powder, and into her went Serge. It was a long randy fuck, both mutually enjoying it, especially the Duchess, who screamed with
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delight when the final spasm came and Serge, covering her old face still retaining some of her world famous beauty, with kisses, slowly withdrew.
"And now a regular orgy set in, the five men set apart for the Duchess, religiously did their duty, but the other ten fell upon the remaining four women and the child who was still there. I know I was fucked four times by whom I wasn't quite sure, out I was content to take whatever prick came handy.
"It was a riot of the flesh for days afterwards, I could feel in imagination the touch of legs between mine, the pressure of lips on mine, the grip of arms and pressure of hard cocks into my cunt.
"Most of us fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.
When I awoke the full day was throwing shafts of light through the chinks of the shutters. By my side lay a naked man, his hand still affectionately laid on my stomach. All round were naked forms, nearly all sleeping. I saw Serge in the arms of his little girl.
"Ivan slept heavily with Olga's naked body thrown across him. One of the men was at the table drinking and smoking, and the Duchess was drinking and writing letters—marvellous old woman.
"It struck cold and I struggled to my feet. Presently the majority of the guests awoke and rather shamefacedly we made to our bedrooms, leaving the clothing to be fetched by the servants. Luckily, they were used to such orgies in the chateau.
"I kept my room for three days, only going to the windows to see the deflowered children drive to their homes. I gathered afterwards that it cost Serge a good bit—some special dispensation was obtained, however. It was a memory!"
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You may be sure that little Nemmy had drunk this story with avidity. As it came to an end, I sank back on the pillow with a gasp.
"Oh, I wish I had been there!" I said.
"Will you come with me to my kingdom, then?"
"Perhaps, some day." When it came to the actual promising, I felt a little nervous.
His Highness laughed. "She tells the story well, la belle Madame, n'est ce pas?"
I admitted that she certainly did.
"Well, Madame, we perish of hunger, will you attend? Let us have it here, I am too faint to rise yet." Madame disappeared after kissing me voluptuously; her story had made her naughty.
Lunch made its appearance at once, brought by Madame on a dainty tray.
His Highness would not allow me to put anything on and we were both stark naked when she came in. We sipped and nibbled.
At last he finished, and to my surprise, got up from the bed and walked naked, his penis rampant, across to the table where the champagne bottle was.
"Serge," cried Madame, "but you are marvellously fit this morning."
"It is what you have brought me that has done it," he answered, and coming to the bedside he flung off the clothes and showing me all bare, pressed a hot kiss to my cunt.
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As I lay there quivering, all on fire for filth, Madame toyed with me, her dexterous fingers running all over my body.
His Highness pulled her from me, and dragging off her bodice from her, exposed too, her naked breasts, not such a good sight as mine but very tempting. She flung herself on the bed by my side and grappled me; the contact of her warm flesh sent flames of desire all through me. The Prince came back to the bed and between them they rolled me from side to side, kissing me everywhere, licking my flesh. I think that Madame thrust her tongue further down my cunt than any one ever had before.
It was glorious; I panted for lust; my hands flew over their bodies, now gripping his throbbing cock now dipping into her sweltering cunt. His Highness pressed my ringers together and pushed my hand into her cunt, then licked the moisture from it. Occasionally a drop appeared at the end of his penis, which I kissed away, but he would delay the fuck. For myself, I could scarcely count the number of times I had spent; the moisture was streaming down my legs, and Madame was in a like plight. At last he freed himself from me. "Put the cushions under her!" he said huskily to Madame.
She waited while she undressed altogether, and then lifted my willing body and piled the cushions beneath me till my arse was lifted high above my head.
Then she sat herself behind me and I felt her warm body supporting mine, her knees round my waist, her arms clutched about me, her wet cunt oozing against a cheek of my bottom. It was a delicious position. She was herself backed up with pillows so that she half reclined with my body resting on her stomach, and His Highness, his cock almost at bursting point, stood and surveyed us.
It could not last long, I put my hands behind me and drove my fingers into her cunt for very wickedness. My legs were opened wide and I felt as if my whole body were one great gaping cunt.
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His Highness lit a cigar; even in my anger at further delay, I could not help noticing the wonderful aroma. He blew the perfumed smoke over our bodies, while his hands slowly caressed me. He straddled over my expectant body, pressing his taut cock against my belly while he kissed the face of the woman behind me. Her hands were now messing with my cunt, and the smell of the escaping semen mingled with that of the cigar, and the delicate breath of the perfumes with which Madame's body was covered. Would he never come to the point, I thought. I would not ask, but all my quivering body begged for fucking, and he knew it!
He the lay upon me, his legs between mine, and discussed with Madame the many beauties of my body, and—well, at last he had me. We spent mutually. Madame then took me to the bathroom and bathed my tired body in scented water till new life glowed in it.
In an hour I was dressed. A caviar sandwich and a cocktail and Madame spirited me to the coach. His Highness, she said, would meet us at the L. and N.W.R. Hotel presently.
His Highness picked me up and we had a bracing drive, only just returning in time for me to go straight to the theatre. I met Jean in the passage.
"Well," he said, "what happened; why didn't you come home? I waited up."
"I wasn't well," I answered, "and thought it better to stop over for the night."
"That means that you slept with the Prince?"
"It doesn't."
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"Come into my room." When we were alone, he pulled me on his knee and slid his hand up my clothes suddenly. "Those are not your drawers," and he drew my skirt up.
I had forgotten, they were some that Madame Kahn had given me, and what was worse—they had a coronet embroidered on them.
"You DID sleep with him?"
"Oh, well, if you must know: YES, I did! One doesn't get the chance of sleeping with a royal Prince every day—and it doesn't make any difference to my love for you, Jean."
"Oh, I don't mind, it's all in the business; what did he give you?"
"Nothing."
"You damned little fool; do you mean to say you slept with a Prince and got nothing—nothing?"
That nettled me and I left in a temper; I was beginning to find Jean out.
I had no chance to speak to Restall during the first act but he glanced quizzically at me. Going to my room in the interval, the hall keeper said there was a Commissaire to see me. The man wore the livery of a London hotel, which surprised me.
"I've come from London to bring you this, Miss," he said, "I've 'ad a 'ard job to get a train. Got down in four hours without a stop. Lord, it did shake, only one coach! Special train. 'Is Highness telephones me 'ow no expense was to be spared, but you must 'ave it tonight. Will you give me a receipt, Miss?"
I gave him a receipt, and opened the parcel and found a velvet case which I opened. A collar of pearls, black and white intermixed and obviously of enormous value. The clasp was a medallion of blue
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enamel, heavily set with diamonds and inscribed in small but very white diamonds:
To N. H. in remembrance of her delightful performance
It was a magnificent present and the double entendre of the inscription pleased me.
Halfway through Act II, I changed to a prince's costume. With that I could wear the collar. The prince, Madame Kahn and a young man were in the box, and I longed to wear it. There was a general gasp of astonishment in the dressing room when I put it on.
"Wherever did you get that? Why, it must be worth thousands."
I said an old admirer had sent it from London. As I was waiting in the wings for my cue, Restall bustled up to me. "Well, dear," he whispered, "how did it go?"
I pointed to my collar and at that instant a shaft of light from the opposite side illuminated the beautiful jewels.
"Good God, child, it is worth a fortune; whatever did you do to him?"
"If I show you, will you take it as payment of a commission?"
"Rather. Tonight?"
"No, wait till Sunday night, when we are not tired," and I pinched his thigh.
Presently a little note came from His Highness.
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Dear Child:
The trifle becomes you well. I leave tonight for London. Send your permanent address to the Legation. We must not lose sight of each other.
When I next went on the stage, the box was empty. As the curtain fell, Restall stopped me. "You mustn't take that thing home, child; it's dangerous. Meet me in the bar and we'll put it in the theatre safe till you are back in London."
From Liverpool we were to cross to Doyglas, another sea voyage.
"Going to be a dirty night, I'm afraid," said one of our comedians.
"Speak for yourself," was the answer: "I'm going to sleep alone."
I did not get to bed but sat with one of the other girls in a corner of the saloon, concealed behind a curtain. On the other side were the men of the company, and gay and vulgar talk flashed between them.
This is one of the tales:
I knew a young man who got a roaring clap just three days before his wedding day. The doctor told him not to have connection with a woman for at least three weeks. What was he to do?
Well, when the happy pair eventually got to bed that night, the young man found that the girl was of a very hot nature and evidently expected something. So ducking his head, he applied his tongue to her clitoris and repeated his Paris triumphs in the licking off line, explaining to her that this alone was the famous nuptial act which her mother had led her to prepare for.
This continued for three weeks and the girl loved it, but at last the doctor pronounced her husband whole. With joy in his heart and a
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mighty horn at the root of his stomach, that worthy prepared to give her the coup de grace. But hardly had his swelling member won one inch within its proper chamber, when the girl leapt from him, exclaiming:
Now, then, none of your nasty "French tricks!"
But to resume:
A surprise awaited us at Douglas. Letty Latouche, Jean and I had engaged rooms together as usual, but on landing in the morning, Jean was confronted with a telegram recalling him forthwith. His wife was seriously ill.
He went by return boat, an understudy was summoned and one young man, who had been unable to find rooms, begged for Jean's, and I by no means rejected him. I found the feet of clay on my idol Jean and I had a sneaking regard for this boy. Why not a lustful week with him?
Jimmy Kendall was his name. We were hard at it in the theatre all day, but I soon saw that Jimmy had made up his mind what was to happen. A sly kiss when I told him it was all right about the rooms, settled matters.
Supper that night seemed near ending. I was done and ready for bed in ten minutes, but Jimmy and Letty kept on talking—I'm sure she did it on purpose. At last the old hag of a landlady skulked into the room to ask if we wanted anything more. That gave me my cue for bed and I went.
Jimmy made a bold pretence of kissing me good night, whispering that he would not be long. I was out of my clothes like a flash of lightning, and I sponged my body with warm perfumed water and slipped into my nightdress and slid in between the sheets. I was in a glow of apprehension when I heard the door open to admit—Letty.
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"Oh, it's you!" I said in plainly disgusted accents.
"He will be a few minutes, the old lady is talking to him and he can't rid himself of her. I thought I'd tell you."
She sat on the bed and began fingering my arm. How much as I enjoyed a little illicit amusement with Letty before, I had no inclination now, and I told her so.
"Very well," she said. "Keep it all for him, my dearie, but you must realize my position. I've got no one and I feel as randy as hell, just play with me for a moment and I'll go."
I had to do it. She got into bed with me and I frigged her till my hand was covered with spend and she nearly bit my tongue off with kisses. "Now, dearest, I'll leave you to it," and she kissed me adieu.
Jimmy was not long and when at last he did slip through the door, only a suit of silken pyjamas hid his body from me.
He crept into bed, we were both nervous and he gripped my burning body in his arms. For nearly five minutes his lips remained pressed to mine. It was five minutes of supreme delight. I could feel the iron profile of his cock against my stomach. As our lips unglued, his hands slipped down; he raised my night dress, dallied just a little over my legs, and touched me on the clitoris. I bit him on the neck in my mad delight.
"Quiet, dearest little Nemmy," he whispered. "I don't want to be killed." Then he drew himself on top of me till our bare stomachs burned together, curled my legs over him and the game began.
It was a short but violent fuck. We must have nearly broken the bed and I wonder we didn't wake the whole terrace up. He nearly broke my back with the vigour of his grip.
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He bundled me out of bed when it was over. "Have you a syringe, darling," he asked. He was pleased when I produced it, and helped me manipulate it, as he was a practiced man.
We each had a drink of whiskey before taking encores. We had a half hour's fondling, most delightful of love's ecstasies, the actual fuck is so fleeting. Our next séance was longer, he placed me on top of him. I felt no weight but I had to do all the work. Still, it was delicious. We spent heavily and lay prone.
"Get up, silly," he said, but I was lazy. "You must get up," and he jerked me to my feet, held me upright, placed his finger in the mouth of my cunt and parted the lips wide. "Let it come out," he said, supporting me with an arm round my waist. "I don't want you in the family way."
A moment later, he put his finger all thickly smeared with my spendings and his own into his mouth and licked it clean with a gesture of contentment.
"You dirty beast!" I said, with a shudder.
"Look here, Nemmy, you're too damned sober," was all his answer. He took the bottle and poured me out what looked like a terribly strong whiskey. "Mop that up like a good girl, and don't find fault with me any more," he said.
The spirits ran riot in my head and when he asked me to clean his member for him in the same way, it seemed nothing to run my tongue over it, slimy with spunk, draw it into my mouth and return it to him clean. In fact I could have gone on licking it, only he forbade it.
To detail all the events of that wonderful night would take more space than I have at my command.
We continued fucking, sucking and the rest of it. By this time the amount of whiskey we had drunk made us both absolutely filthy and
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for the first time I experienced no repulsion in sitting on the chamber pot and making water in a man's presence.
For our last bout, Jimmy stretched me face downwards on the bed and got into my cunt from behind. That, I think, I enjoyed the most of that immemorial night's session of strokes, though the commencement was extremely painful. This time he was almost half an hour in me before he spent—how many times I came, I could not count. Anyway, the bed was drenched. I would nearly have liked to stay all night in his arms but prudence forbade; we didn't want a scandal, but oh, how I longed for another taste of pleasure when I awoke late on the following morning, and how disappointed when I came in to breakfast to find that Jimmy had gone out.
He was out practically all day, returning just in time for our early dinner. After dinner he went to his room and locked the door. I was maddened with lust and when he reappeared just in time to see me to the theatre, I reproached him.
A bad headache, was his excuse and with that I had to be content. As we came to the stage door, we met Restall, who looked at me curiously, obviously with no great liking for my escort. In the theatre I was the subject of a great deal of chaff about Jimmy: and the semi-liaison seemed fairly common property already.
After the performance, Restall sent his dresser with a message that I was to come to his room at once. I went in my full stage dress. I found Restall also in his fancy costume smoking a cigar and drinking a glass of champagne.
"I hear," he began, "that you and Kendall have fixed up a little affair. You're living together?"
I assured him that nothing of the sort existed, but he did not believe me, and proceeded to tell me that I was a little idiot to land myself to an actor. "You or he will leave the company," was his ultimatum. 38
I threw myself on his mercy, confessed my affection for Jean and said without him life would be a blank...and made use of a woman's weapon, tears.
He relented, or he saw a chance, perhaps both, for he pulled me onto his knees and kissed me! "You repent it," he said, "still I mustn't break a rule of my company without some compensation," and he slid his hands up my tights. In a second he gripped me and the lips that pressed mine were red hot.
I was coiling with lust; after all, it was Jimmy's fault for having left me unsatisfied that morning. As he sat back on the sofa, I sank limply on top of him and let his vicious tongue dart round my mouth...another moment and my own tongue was reciprocal.
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CHAPTER II
Well, Restall pulled my tights off and likewise undressed himself. Then he drew back to inspect me and commented on my fine legs. He kissed me from toes to ankles while his fingers played with my pussy. He then pushed my legs apart and guided his prick into me.
It was a long fuck, I daresay it was not his first that day, as all the chorus girls were ready to oblige him. But I know he loved it.
Finally, he came fairly copiously, said not a word and got up. After I washed myself, I found tongue. "Well, l suppose I may please myself about my love affairs?" I said.
"Oh, certainly, but I shall want an occasional reminder." I took a quiet kiss and departed.
Jimmy was home when I arrived and greeted me roughly—where the devil had I been, etc.— when I told him that the Guvnor had kept me on a matter of business, but to my astonishment he became pacified at once, although the Guvnor's business chats with the pretty members of his chorus were notorious.
Jimmy was very lustful that night. He paid little respect to our house companion, but pulled me away onto his knees, directly the landlady left, covered my lips with kisses, massaged my breasts and slid his hand under my skirt. I protested, but "Oh, she doesn't mind," was his answer.
"Do what you like, old dears, only don't drive me from the fireside yet," was Letty's comment.
So I abandoned myself. Finally, however, Letty bade us good night. We stayed, undressed and were stark naked before the fire. On a pile of pillows and rugs. How wonderful Jimmy's body looked, and what a change from Restall's elderly wrinkled paunchy nakedness, though there wasn't much difference in the size of their cocks.
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I can hardly describe the pleasure—what a weak word—of the contact of our hot bodies. I was content to play for a while, for Restall had tired me somewhat. I found out afterwards that one of the pretty dressmakers had gone down on him and sucked him off before I appeared that night. She must have scented her mouth or he must have scented his prick for it tasted delightful, when I pressed my lips to it.
Well, I spent and spent and spent...
"That reminds me!" and the typewriter ceases clicking.
"Another interruption," I answer, "in the middle of one of my best scenes.
"But this is funny," says Gladys.
"It's too damned funny, why the fucking hell don't you wait till you are asked to talk..."
I am angry but Gladys only laughs.
"There, you must listen!" she says. "It's the tale of the leading society actress beauty, and of the nasty little drunken racing man who had a proprietary interest in her body because of the money he spent on its adornment.
"'Good gracious,' said he, 'I spent enough on you to build a battleship.'
"'And you've spent enough in me to float one,' was the dulcet answer."
"Chestnuts," said I.
I choke off Gladys' further story telling with a liberal brandy and soda and a smack on her bottom.
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Well, the week in Douglas was joyful but I decided one week with Jimmy was enough, besides Jean would be back the following week, and I had promised Restall a night.
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CHAPTER III
We were going on Sunday to Aberdeen and I arranged with Restall to break my journey at Edinburgh, and come on by next train to Dundee, where he would wait for me.
Matters were easily arranged with Jean. I told him a tale about seeing some relations at Edinburgh.
I had a compartment to myself, but as we were going uphill and the train was progressing slowly, was astonished to see the head and shoulders of a man at the carriage window. The face resolved itself into that of Cunningham, one of our comedians.
He had been left alone, he said, the other men having gone, and hence his arrival late.
To cut a long story short, my readers, this terminated in another immoral adventure. I was not a bit keen on the man, but I was lonely and I was too lazy to struggle. Also, he wasn't a bad fellow and all said and done, a fuck on a long, dull journey was infinitely preferable to doing nothing at all. The action was likely to please both of us, besides killing time, why, therefore not consent?
The man did not waste words but in the confident manner of actors, went into action at once. It began with a snatched kiss on the cheek, followed by a grasp of his arm round my waist. Next moment his disengaged hands had lifted my skirts to my knees and then of course, I had to make a formal protest, which I did not mean seriously, and he, being experienced at the game, knew perfectly well.
He gave me a sigh of satisfaction as his fingers slid over my stockings and came at last to the bare flesh—dirty little cat that I was, I had omitted to put drawers on.
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He bent back on the seat, slipped to his knees, put my legs over his shoulders and fucked me. It was commonplace but very pleasant We both laughed at the end.
"Forgive me, kid," he said, "but there's no harm done and after all, there are only two things to do on a journey, drink and, shall we call it 'flirt'—and I prefer the latter." We had whiskey and sodas and chatted and he was just going to have another, when we noticed Edinburgh quite near.
"I'll cut out quick," he said, "Restall'd be furious, if he knew I was with you."
I got to Dundee in good time and went straight to the Palace Hotel. I found Restall waiting in the hall.
"You're my niece here," he whispered. "I'd forgotten that they knew me, but I've got adjacent rooms and a sitting room."
We had a bathroom belonging to the suite and I had a comfortable laze in the hot water before dinner. Restall sat on the edge of the bath and watched me with vicious eyes.
I know he didn't mean to do anything before dinner but the sight was too much for him. When I got out of the bath, he pressed me to him, wet as I was, and kissed me fervently. Then he flung himself out of his clothes and made me bathe him. I soaped, scrubbed and massaged him, and eventually got in the bath with him.
There is a lot of talk about fucking in a bath, but believe me the game is not all it is cracked up to be. It is not so comfortable as it-might be to have a man on top of you, even though the water is delicious. Also, the water contracts the vagina and entrance is difficult. Still, we managed it successfully, and the water was full of floating sperm when we stood up.
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I dried Restall with hot towels and thoroughly massaged him with my hands.
We dined, I in a tea gown, Restall in a smoking jacket. The man was, for the time being, genuinely in love with me. We lounged, smoking and fondling for an hour or so, on a big divan, and then went to bed.
Restall had made every preparation for the night. I could see that I was expected to go well through it. Whiskey, brandy, burgundy and champagne were provided, in case they were needed, likewise, raw eggs and Brand's essence. Restall was not a young man and needed extra stimulants.
I sat on the bed in my chemise, the former rolled up and showing a brilliant expanse of white thighs; Restall, smoking, stood and gazed.
"Well, Nemmy, what shall we do first?"
"Why ask me?" I answered; "I am only a kid while you've had all the most beautiful actresses in London in your bed. I am beginning, you are blasé, do what you like with me; my body is all at your disposal. I have the greatest regard for you and I think you are the cleverest man I have ever met.
"Make me your little slave, eat me if you like; fuck me till you kill me; anything; I'm ready for ANYTHING, and now you can have it! I'm hot as hell!" and I slid my chemise off and lay back naked, my legs open.
The subsequent fuck was delightful, hot flesh meeting hot flesh. It was certainly a long one, and Restall pulled out at the end.
"Put it in your mouth, darling," he said. I drank it.
After an hour's talk, Restall's tongue ran riot over the exploits of his youth, he clasped me firmly, made me put his penis in and began very slowly. "I want this to be a long one, kid, I'm mad with lust."
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For half an hour he fucked and talked; suddenly he became impetuous, gripped me violently, ravished me madly and fell prone upon me, and while I felt his outpourings, I fainted.
When I came to, he was still in the same position; the penis was still stiff, the grip tight, but he was strangely inert. I heard no sound of Breathing and shook him. I managed to get my hand to his heart; there was no beat and I was terrified.
Was the man in a cataleptic fit—or was it— but I dared not think. I struggled to free myself from that embrace but in vain. I might have been in a vice. His arms were locked round my body, his legs round mine; only my arms were tree. I struggled again and again to free myself, but in vain.
The man was indubitably dead. I remembered having heard that his heart was weak. I remembered also that there was on record a case where a dead man had to be separated from a girl by force. For another quarter of an hour I supported the intolerable position, hoping against hope that it was a seizure only.
At last I stretched out my hand and rang the bell. Presently a knock came on the door, a man's voice answered the enquiry.
"I wish to see the manageress only," I answered. Luckily we were in my room. Another knock came: "The door is locked but I am too ill to getup," I answered, "have you a duplicate key?" I heard a jingle of keys and managed to stretch my hand up and switch off the light.
I heard Madam, the manageress, fumbling her way into the room. "Please shut the door and lock it," I answered; "I have a terrible thing to tell. Mr. Restall is dead in this bed with me— and worse! Promise me you will be discreet, and —turn up the light." Very few words passed. She was a strong woman and eventually forced the corpse from me. She covered it with a sheet, while I hurried into a dressing gown.
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"I can see that there must be no scandal," she said, "obviously Mr. Restall had died from heart failure. Help me carry him back to the other room and I will send for the doctor later. You had better leave the hotel by the first train in the morning and go to Aberdeen. Pretend to know nothing till the telegram comes to the theatre. You can rely on me to be absolutely discreet—for Mrs. Restall's sake, not yours!"
I went by the first train and had breakfast at my rooms, to the great surprise of Jean, who had not expected me until late in the day, and about 11 a. m. went down to the theatre. From the faces of those present it was obvious that the news had arrived. Presently, men began posting up notices that the theatre was closed. The assistant stage manager assembled the company and sent us all back to London that night. All salaries and details would be settled in time by Mr. Restall's trustees.
So ended my connection with Herbert Restall and my first engagement on the stage.
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CHAPTER IV
We arrived in London a little before midday, I had little idea of what to do. I only had a few pounds, besides, of course, the royal jewellery gift. This I did not want to pawn. Jean had not come as the proprietor of the Music Hall had offered him an engagement. The parting did not break my heart.
I took a room at a small hotel and slept most of the day. I dined alone and bought a ticket at the Pavilion Music Hall. The performance did not interest me, and half way through I got up and started to go home, when passing through the promenade I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Hein, my little spitfire, how goes it?" I turned to confront Lewis, and gasped.
"Oh, let us be friends," he said, "I hear all about your success with that poor Mr. Restall; you shall come to my company now."
Well, it ended in supper and the wine and the rest made me rather abandoned; I showed too much leg and made far too much use of my eyes. Lewis was very fascinated. "And vat do you do now?" he asked.
"I don't know—I haven't much money."
"You come mit me."
And I went.
I followed him in the hansom and we were spinning homewards. Lewis was not affectionate in the cab. He merely gripped my hand tightly but my skirts remained chastely around my ankles.
The journey was a short one and we soon drew up before a stucco portico. A middle aged woman opened the door, apparently quite unmoved at my coming. It was obvious she reckoned me just one of the loose women whom Lewis brought home for his transitory pleasures. 48
He passed through a nicely furnished hall and we found ourselves in a delightful little dining room, with a table laid for four.
"I thought you would rather have a hot supper," he said, "you look a little faint, my dear."
"But why covers for four people?" I asked.
"Oh, that means nothing; I had meant to bring some men in to gamble, but that's off, now I've luckily met you."
The prospect of a good supper reconciled me to a marvellous degree to the position I was in. He busied himself with a bottle of champagne.
"The young lady will have the front room, I suppose," said the housekeeper with a nasty emphasis on the "young lady", as she laid down some dishes.
"You mustn't mind her, Nemmy," said Lewis when the door had closed, "she's a little blunt, but she's a jewel of a housekeeper," and then we fell upon the supper.
I let myself get drunk—I thought it better, the champagne was really good, and by the time supper was over, I was ready for anything. Our liqueurs finished, I suppose Lewis thought the critical moment had arrived. He had been in a state of passion ever since he had been with me, passion which was greatly increasing when he was seeing me with my hat off—my hair always had a bad effect on men.
I was excited, but I judged it better to be a little coy and I remained passive while his hands travelled up my legs. He prolonged the pleasure for himself, dallied over the bare strip of flesh over the stockings, and fumbled with the drawers before his fingers came to the fountain head.
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I said not a word as he pulled my legs apart and straddled me across him, feeling me with both hands. Suddenly I felt his fingers undoing his trousers. In another minute I felt the hot penis tip rubbing against the saturated hairs of my pussy. In another moment he was into me like a knife.
Lewis was done in half a dozen strokes and was off me, standing up and panting, his penis still discharging little jets of semen.
"Get up, girl," he cried, and catching one of my hands he jerked me into an upright position. I could feel the stuff streaming in a sticky mass down my legs.
"Why get up," I said weakly.
"Why? Do you think I want you in the family way? I want you to be a great actress," and he made me cough and cough again till I assured him that I retained not a drop of his outpourings.
Then we rested and drank, and smoked. He made me undress and stand naked in front of him. I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror, standing stark naked against the wallpaper and a pretty picture I made there. I kissed my hands to the duplicate in the glass, and then flung myself again on the sofa, legs sprawled open wide, a prey to the most lustful imaginings.
Lewis pawed my body without ceasing. His fleshy plaything regained its former robust condition and again threatened me. His every breath gave me new lustful feelings. I wanted spectators there to view my indecency.
All the time I said nothing. I had just let my body be a facile instrument for Lewis to play on, but when for the second time he mounted me, I found tongue. It was really the first time in my life that I had been properly drunk and bad words flowed from my lips. I
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remember exhorting him to fuck me! FUCK ME! And then almost fainted as once more the consummation arrived.
He carried me to my room, a dainty little chamber. I lay dead beat on the bed, while he continued undressing. I noticed he swallowed some sort of pill in his whiskey and soda and then he was on top of me again.
This time it was a far more serious business, in fact quite a long and tiring fuck for me; I felt I should never come, and he was experiencing much the same sensation, but still it was very amusing. Across the picture sheet of my brain flashed the images of all the men I had slept with, and one or two I had not had at all, but would have liked to. The delight was ecstatic. I can only remember the final spasm, as I imagined one of our handsome comedians in my arms, and I am sure the name Lewis breathed when he spent was not Nemesis.
The sun's rays woke me in the morning—to find myself alone. In my subsequent relations with Lewis, I discovered that he very seldom let me see him in the morning until he had dressed and shaved.
Presently the housekeeper entered with a nice breakfast and we became friendly over a brandy and soda. She told me in answer to a question that Lewis had brought hundreds of girls to the house. I gathered that Lewis had the carnal run of pretty well known actresses.
It gave her quite a shock, she told me, when he brought home a young lady who played a devout Christian part in a famous religious play, and to hear her in the morning. "Which 'er language it were that awful!" she vouchsafed to me. "'Er a goin' through her lines with a cross in her hands, and calling me a bold bitch an 'our afterwards!"
From the remarks she let slip, I gathered that she had herself served her apprenticeship and had pretty high old times.
Certainly she had no cause to complain against the treatment of the world, for her billet with Lewis was a very comfortable one. There were
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two other women servants beside herself and a boy in buttons. The two girls were uncommonly good looking. I made enquiries as to whether they also filled the functions of occasional mistresses, but was informed that though the master's friends sometimes made use of these pretty handmaidens, the master himself never did so.
Lewis turned up early for lunch, seemingly pleased with himself, at any rate, after a capital lunch, he took advantage of his position and had me over the end of the sofa.
He was not very expeditious and while his penis was still tunnelling within me, conversed on theatrical affairs. I gathered that I was destined to be the star of his next production.
"You are to have marvellous costumes, my dear, one of them a full-tights dress, cut very low at the neck, is the most voluptuous thing—" but the thought of what I should look like, was too much for him, I suppose, and I felt the hot jets of his final effort within me.
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CHAPTER V
Lewis was thoroughly businesslike with me. He was to keep me comfortably and well, and give me all the pocket money in reason. When the next play was produced, I was to draw a good salary in addition. Then I was to have a couple of rooms elsewhere, so that no one should know of our liaison.
Time jogged on comfortably. Lewis was rather exigent, but he did me very well. He was an amusing companion, versed to the finger tips in every art of vice. I was an apt pupil. It was always assumed when guests arrived that I was also a guest—the daughter of an old friend, who is to be a big success on the stage.
One week Lewis was summoned hastily to Paris and I was very much alone. I was a great deal tempted to go out and chance meeting Annesley or Walker Bird, but thought it better to renew these acquaintances when I was playing a part.
They were dull days, partly taken up by singing lessons, but I began to yearn for a man of some kind. I had even thought of the page boy in that category.
On the seventh day it was particularly lonely, the housekeeper was away for the day and night and Lewis was still in Paris.
I undressed and lay in bed reading a book which seemed rather dull. I rang the bell for the maid to bring me a whiskey and soda.
"Come in!" I cried in answer to a knock, and not bothering to turn my head. I heard the door open, light footsteps and then—goodness gracious, there was the page boy!
There he stood, scarcely concealing a smile at my nakedness, and said: "Well, Madame," with a cheeky grin.
"How dare you come!" I ejaculated.
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"There is no one else in, you remember, you gave Thomson the evening off."
Then did I remember and blushed all over as I recollected what very much exposed charms the little imp was gazing at. I bundled him off to get the whiskey and things and got myself covered in bed.
He was soon back and took an unnecessarily long time about the business of putting a tumbler by the bedside, etc.
I suppose it was my loneliness that made me do it out for lack of anything else to talk about, I began to question him about his life. He had been in some Godless places it appeared. Gardener's boy in a smart tart's country house, at least I gathered she was a tart from his naive confession that she had a lot of husbands, and while he was talking I suddenly perceived that the cheeky little wretch was sitting on edge of the bed and feeling my toes through the bedclothes. I pretended not to notice it.
He was just fifteen he told me, and when I asked it he had ever had a sweetheart, he straightway gave the maid Thomson away and named her. In fact, I got out of him, by the time he had summoned up courage to advance his hand to my knee, that he was in the habit of sleeping with her.
It's no use disguising the fact any longer— from the moment the boy touched my foot and I saw he was a very pretty boy, I had determined to gratify my lust with him.
Never before had it occurred to me that a little boy could be so nice; I had never been anxious for such a trial but that night the idea obsessed me. I meant, however, to leave it to him to make the first attempt.
He began awkwardly enough by saying that he had seen me on the stage in London—which was an obvious lie, as I had never played in London—and that I looked lovely.
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Of course, I asked him if I didn't look nicer off, and he looked me straight in the face and answered: "Yes!"
I had laid my bare arm over the coverlet then, and he had taken my fingers in his. He was a pretty boy and his tight fitting livery showed his figure off to advantage.
I found it impossible to get him to make the necessary overtures, and had to do something myself. I led him to talk of the girls he had kissed and banteringly told him that I did not believe he knew how to kiss—that, of course, meant that he kissed me and that action at once removed the barrier between mistress and servant which had hitherto separated us. I had my arm over his neck and kept him down on me after he had kissed me.
"And what do you do to Thomson when you sleep with her?" I asked.
He had the assurance to answer: "What you and master do."
I slid my other hand between his legs and felt, as I said: "I don't believe you are old enough!" but there was something pretty stiff inside his little trousers, I can tell you.
Well, the upshot of the thing was that the boy pushed his hand underneath the bedclothes, pulled up my nightdress and felt my naked pussy. I stood it for a minute and then thrust him from the bed and told him to undress.
"Undress yourself and show me what you did to Thomson," I commanded with lust, and spending like a fountain.
He obeyed quickly enough. He wanted to jump into bed as soon as he was naked, but I wouldn't allow that; I made him stand up to be looked at. He was beautifully formed and had the dearest little thing growing bolt upright from a very young undergrowth of fern. I told him to drink
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a glass of whiskey, and then flung the clothes from me and lay open-legged for the onslaught.
It was a tiny member that he put into my sweating cunt, but he employed it manfully and I realized Thompson, the maid, had no mean substitute for a man when she took that precocious little child into her bed.
He was so small that I hardly felt his little penis against the sides of my pussy, but I came after four or five strokes, and then fell to thinking as I lay in a delicious state of lassitude of the other pricks that had entered me.
I was nineteen and it wasn't quite a year since I had first gone wrong, but I had had a fair selection. First, George Reynolds with a long thin sinewy member. I was only judging from the feel of it, for I had been too shy that first night to properly examine it. But I remember he was a quick and frequent spender.
Then Walker Bird's chubby little tool, that took a great deal of agitation before his blasé majesty would be persuaded to pour out its balm.
Mr. Annesley was of the long and slim order, and curiously shaped—bent the wrong way. The four men I had had at Mrs. Clarence's place, that made seven. The artist, eight. Mr. Edgar with his clean shaven stomach, the poet with his truly gigantic member, ten. Then on tour before I began living with Jean, was Restall of course, the boy at Oxford, the fat brewer at Manchester, the Scotch whiskey merchant at Glasgow, and the comedian at Edinburgh (with, of course, the waiter there) that brought the list up to sixteen.
Then Jean, most hallowed of memories, even though he had been a blackguard to me—Lewis and now this little chit of a page boy. I decided to count him and the baffled comedian at half each, and so
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brought the number up to twenty; what a record for a little girl of my age; the daughter of a reverend parson, too!
Well, in the midst of my sweet recollection of the penises enjoyed in the past, I was brought to a proper consciousness of the work in hand by the plunges of my little lover. "I'm going to spend," he piped into my ear and that he did with delightful spasms and ecstatic exclamations of joy. What he put into me was no Niagara but I must say I enjoyed it very much.
I made him wait on me, go downstairs stark naked as he was, to fetch hot water. I lay open-legged on the cork mat by the washstand while he washed my parts.
Then I made him sit in the armchair, naked as he was, while I lay on the bed, as we talked. It was amusing to watch his shrunken member give sudden starts of animation as I made the conversation more indelicate.
Of course to make him naughty again, I questioned him about the former times he had done this, and really the little rascal had had an uncommonly festive time for his age and knew quite a lot. He wanted to make love to me, tell me he worshipped me, but I let him know that I was making use of him as a servant.
In fact, I thought it better to close his mouth by making a definite arrangement. It was as follows: "As long as I find that you are perfectly discreet over this," I said, "I will give you ten shillings every time I want you, and will recommend Mr. Lewis to increase your wages. Should you dare tell Thomson or any of the other servants, I will be sure to hear of it and out you go!"
Of course he protested that he didn't want the money, but I had made him bring me my purse and take a sovereign from it. By that time I was ready for more and I noticed the kid was too. I took his penis in my hand and it thrilled with life. The only thing that bothered me was exactly what to do with him. I didn't want the boy to fuck me in the
57
manner of the majority of men. I lay with him on the floor, on the fur rug which I always preferred to a bed for fucking purposes, and we fingered each other's parts. I thought of sucking the boy but I didn't want that, and another and wickeder idea began gradually to grow on me. I remembered the time that Jean had tried to get into me by way of my other aperture and failed, owing to the size of his member. Now it occurred to me as I looked at the diminutive member that this one should be able to make a way into me with ease.
Still, I wanted to suck the boy too, and I would prefer to do that before he operated on me. The question was whether after the sperm had been drawn from him by experienced lips and tongue, would he be able to get another erection sufficient to encounter the natural resistance which my virgin back passage would be sure to offer.
I had half turned on top of him, was feeling his thumb of love—a pleasant expression that, and one I was unacquainted with until I took to reading Walt Whitman.
"You ignorant girl!" interrupts Gladys, "the letter press to the old bawdy drawings, to Rowlandson's especially, are full of that expression."
I confess my ignorance and proceed.
Well, I was feeling the boy, bending over him, with my lips close to his penis, and the little bugger was fidgeting about randily, and I thought it best to question him on his state of manhood.
"How many times can you do it?" I asked him point blank.
"Oh, lots," he answered, "at any rate three more."
I hardly believed in three more, but the boy seemed so confident. And then, how to suggest the thing became a puzzler—but I determined to leave it till after I had given him my tongue.
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"Did any one ever do this to you before?" I asked, looking into his eyes after I had run my tongue round the tip of his penis—the foreskin closed right up round it, leaving only a tiny bit of the bare head visible.
"No, that is, never a girl. But we used to do it at school."
That reassured me a little; if he had played around with other boys, it was possible he understood the game of entering through the back door.
I pulled back his foreskin and slipped my lips over the bulb of his penis. How the kid enjoyed it; I had certainly never done the sucking act so nicely to any one before, and when at last I tasted his spend, I knew he had come a good deal more into my mouth than he had before in my cunt.
I swallowed it, remembering the saying of one of our chorus girls that a draught of a young boy's spend was the best thing possible for the voice, and the whiskey and soda I took afterwards gained an added pleasure from the taste of the semen in my throat.
After that I judged it best to have supper to keep us going and I was about to send my little naked messenger downstairs to forage when I heard the back door bang. It was obviously the return of Thomson, so telling the boy to hide himself behind the curtains, I slipped on a dressing gown and went downstairs myself.
It was Thomson with a vengeance, for when I came through the half open door of the kitchen I found that young woman recumbent on the floor with an elongated soldier hard at work on top of her. Evidently my house was in a nasty mood that night.
"Thomson!" I cried indignantly. The soldier jumped up and awkwardly tried to replace a swollen penis in his tight trousers; Thomson simply looked an idiot. I waited till the man had beaten a hasty retreat and then feeling that I had been rather selfish, burst into a loud laugh.
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"I'll forgive you," I said to the abashed girl, "only you should have made less noise coining in."
She got some supper and wine on a tray and I carried it myself to my bedroom. I think she fancied I had a man with me and might therefore take liberties herself, for I distinctly heard the door go again and could have sworn the soldier came back.
The supper and champagne revived the boy. As for myself I had never felt better in my life.
We finished a bottle, then I attacked him passionately, covering him with kisses and toying with his body. As a sort of preliminary overture I put my finger in his hole and was surprised to find that the tip went easily in. Then I guided his little ramrod downwards from my cunt to the other door and rubbed its tip against the place. "I can't take you in the ordinary way again," I said. "I'm too sore; you must try the other way."
He was nothing loath. I turned over and knelt, and then the little devil showed he knew all about such things by asking in his pretty treble voice if I had any Vaseline.
I told him where to get it and he anointed himself and me. Then he pressed his tip into that difficult door. The sensation was lovely. When the stiff little head was only partially into my back door, I experienced the most extraordinary feeling of lustfulness. The pushing aside of those stiff membranes was joy. There came a moment of pain as the tip was forced quite in, but when I had that inside of me the pain quickly ceased, and I took his cock in there as easily as I had done in my other place.
The physical sensation was something utterly strange and new. I had an intense local joy, but in addition an excitement of my vagina, and indeed of my whole body and brain, that threw me into an extraordinary fervour.
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He got it all in and I could feel the jets of his spend right up in my bowels. He had his fingers pushed up into my vagina and I spent simultaneously with him.
After it was over I must say I felt rather ashamed. I would not let him see it and cuddled him into my arms on the rug. In each other's arms we fell into the stupid sleep that follows sexual repletion.
Lewis came back two days afterwards—in the meantime I had renewed my intimacy with the boy, as Lewis was very busy. He was forming a new syndicate and was constantly from home, and I was afraid I made use of the pretty page boy rather often.
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CHAPTER VI
I must say also that he was not the only instrument of my infidelity to Lewis. Once I met Mr. Annesley, lunched with him in a private room and submitted on the sofa to his base designs. I did not tell him my address as I was rather ashamed to admit my relations with Lewis.
Still, my clothes and my jewels cannot have allowed him to suppose I was existing on a typewriter's wage. He made no comment even when, on raising my dress to bring the goal of his desires into view, he disclosed my costly silk underwear painted with voluptuous designs. He just gave an extra snort of excitement, scrambled on top of me and went in with his long, oddly shaped penis.
It was a long and voluptuous fuck. We were both of us full up to the eyes with desire, as the result of a carefully selected lunch, in which aphrodisiacs played a considerable part, but both of us, letting caution fly, had accompanied our talk with too much champagne and liqueurs. I think we must have been at it half an hour before we came, but it was a half hour of that extreme mental sensuality which comes so seldom.
"Luckily it does," says Gladys, "or we should all be in lunatic asylums."
Gladys' speech reminds me of a conversation I had that afternoon with Annesley. I had always talked extremely freely with him, finding him a man with a large experience of lust and some interesting theories thereon.
Apropos of this very lunacy resulting from over-mental sensuality he had, that very afternoon, told me a tale of an American actor friend of his. This actor was a handsome man, known as a Matinee Idol, worshipped by the women, and a man who extracted his chief sensual joy from the licking of cunts.
He licked them till he went mad and they put him into Bloomingdale. There, for years, he remained hopelessly insane, drawing pictures on a
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slate of women's vaginas. As soon as each drawing was complete, he licked it off and started a new one.
Annesley's American experiences from the point of view of lust were very interesting. From him I learnt all about paresis, the fell mental and physical affliction which befalls those citizens who pursue carnal desires to an outrageous limit. He also related that American girls as well as the French, used the sucking method considerably, as it was preferred on account of its safety.
But to revert to my page boy. Many nights we played the games. Generally first the old soixante neuf, myself underneath and the kid wriggling on my belly. Sometimes as an especial treat, I would let him fuck me, but not often—I got enough of that from Lewis who was an extraordinarily passionate and vigorous man.
But the great treat was our final act, when the boy's penis made its way into my anus, now so used to the exercise that the initial thrust caused it no pain. The pleasure seemed to grow more intense with each performance, indeed so intense was it that I began to fear lest I should wish for nothing else. I got to quite understand the joy the sodomites must find in this pastime.
One night after my bath, I determined to have a special night of it. Lewis was supposed to go to Manchester, and the boy was in my room reading to me, a particularly improper book which I had received from Annesley. It was amusingly indecent and I made him read on for some time until both he and I were bursting for more serious pleasure. I rolled out of bed and out of my nightdress onto the rug, and we began cuddling. I was bending down so that my lips closed over his penis—when I heard the door open, and looking up, saw Lewis in the room.
There was no getting out of it, the fault was patent. There was I, stark naked, and on the floor by my side, a naked boy, with rampantly erect penis. I was rather flabbergasted and said nothing.
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Lewis, too, said not a word, but closed the door carefully, locked it and walked towards us, fixing his eyeglass in his eye. I don't think he recognized the boy at first. Then:
"What the devil is the meaning of this?" he spluttered.
His words brought a sense of the humour of the situation to me. I remembered the comic excuse of the serving maid, and answered: "I am sorry, but it's such a little one!"
He couldn't help laughing but broke off in the middle of his laugh to exclaim: "Why, it's Peter!"
And Peter, sitting up, remarked quite feebly— "Yes, sir."
I suppose Lewis must have read the 'Golden Ass' of Apuleius, for he decided very quickly. He made no nasty scene, only: "Get to bed, both of you!" and we obeyed.
I twigged his mood then and was a good deal gratified; he was going to share in the amusement. I cannot describe the following scene at great length, it all happened so quickly. Lewis pulled the bedclothes from us and looked at the naked bodies. Then he undressed rapidly and oh, what a tremendous erection we saw when he was naked.
First of all he made us confess that we had fucked and as the confession came from our lips, his penis swelled to even greater dimensions. Then he commanded the boy to do it to me again. But when the boy had been in me for about a second, he laid rough hands on him and pulled him off.
"Now for your punishment," he said.
First of all, he made the boy suck him, and the little devil did it as if to the manner born. But Lewis didn't finish, and—I had a presentiment of
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what was coming—announced brutally that he was going to have the boy.
It took some doing, I was randy to a pitch of fury, and aided in the fell proposal. While the boy knelt on the bed with head down and legs apart, I fetched the Vaseline and anointed his aperture and Lewis' tool. The size of the two things seemed ridiculously disproportionate, but eventually the deed was done. The boy cried aloud with pain till Lewis cuffed him into silence, and I did my duty by pulling the cheeks of his arse as wide apart as I could. Lewis didn't get it all in, if he had, I think he would have murdered the boy, but the whole tip disappeared into the pretty bum, and after a short but vigorous frigging, he fell on top of the lad, kissing him passionately as he spent.
"My God," he exclaimed, when he pulled his cock out, that was nice.
I don't think it can have hurt the boy much for all his screams, for his penis was as stiff as a rod and then came the best part of the evening.
Lewis was soon stiff again, owing principally to my sucking—after he had washed—and proposed that I should take both him and the boy, the boy up the back way.
I was nothing loath. Lewis lay underneath, I got onto him and got his prick well in me. Then the boy got on top of me. I think Lewis must have been surprised at the ease with which the lad slipped right in.
There I was with a tremendous cock up my cunt till our hairs mingled and his balls knocked against my buttocks, and a dear boy's tool right up my arse till his balls mingled with those of the man underneath. The partition between the two holes seemed so insignificant that I could almost feel the penises touching. I will not attempt to describe the sensation, but when they both began to work at me and when at last they both spent, the ecstasy was so great that I went off into a dead faint.
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When I came to myself, I was horrified to see Lewis crouched on his hands and knees and the boy right in him.
When this was finished and Lewis apparently enjoyed it, the boy was sent off to bed, and Lewis came under the sheets with me. He asked me whether I had had the boy up my anus before, and I admitted it.
"Well, Nemmy, of course it was very wrong of you, but I forgive you." But in the morning, I suppose he had forgotten his forgiveness for he sacked the boy—after giving him a very decent present in money—and rated me severely.
It's generally the same in men. When the indecent fit is on them they are ready for anything but when the morning comes and daylight, the general decorous atmosphere of the workaday world, they not only repent but become extremely nasty about overnight's excesses.
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CHAPTER VII
The dismissal of the boy created a gap in our ménage that had to be filled. The other servants frankly declined to dispense with some masculine aid—Ah Sin was the result.
Lewis had come across Ah Sin, a singularly bland faced disciple of Confucius, on one of his visits to the East End shops, one of which Lewis owned. Ah Sin had come in this room at various times, and he unfolded a tale of woe on this occasion. It appeared that he had been in the service of an Anglo Indian master and mistress who had both perished of alcoholic poisoning during the homeward voyage of the P & O mail boat. Hence Ah Sin's financial infelicity in London. Lewis engaged him.
He arrived in the garb of his own country, a medium sized, well made Chinaman of about 30, and took up Peter's place with the additional work of being expected to help in the cooking. He had a little room to himself, and Lewis allowed him a certain amount of opium a week.
Ah Sin began at once to be decidedly useful about the house. With the exception of perhaps once a week, when he took to the opium, he worked like a slave. He was extraordinarily left handed and almost without noticing it, drifted into the position of ladies' maid. Despite his muscular figure and strong hands, he had a great deal of femininity in his composition, and I never had a woman who looked after my clothes so well. The other servants soon became devoted to him. I discovered by the old lady's own half-blushing confession, that he made love to the housekeeper, and Jane, the housemaid, was his slave.
Lewis too began to find him a treasure, for though Ah Sin did not drink himself, he had a wonderful knack of understanding the requirements of others and he could mix drinks like a practised bartender.
Likewise, he could talk in voluble pigeon English, most amusingly. He had been everywhere in the East and had been a keen observer of mankind. He had apparently had some luck in making love to the 67
Europeans too, to judge from one interview he had with Jane, which I was witness to.
I had been to the theatre one evening and was home a good deal earlier than usual, I let myself in through the back gate. I had supposed no one was in the house and through the open French window of the drawing room, I now perceived the bland Ah Sin and our own Jane, swapping spits, as that degenerate person, Mr. Annesley, once described the merrie and delightsome frolic of tongue kissing.
As our lower windows were never locked, the blinds were up and I was able to hear and see everything.
"You have belly fine conformations," remarked Ah Sin, and his hands began to wander over the plump figure of Jane.
And Ah Sin went on to the extent of lifting her frock and inserting a yellow finger between her legs. At that point, Jane proved restive and broke away. Ah Sin also displayed a familiarity with European customs. "You wantee money before fuckee," he insinuated, and held out a piece of silver.
"Hindeed not, Ah Sin, but you were so sudden like..."
And then Ah Sin became sudden like again. In a minute he had Jane on the floor and was on top of her. A few wriggles and I could see that Jane was in a fair way of being charged with a semi-Mongolian offspring.
So much did Jane enjoy the operation that I decided then and there to make a trial of Ah Sin myself—and that very night. He was in the habit of coming in after I had gone to bed and seeing to my clothes, at the same time bringing me a drink.
"Ah Sin," I said to him that night, "what were you doing to Jane in the drawing room?"
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He grinned all over his face. "Little missee not angly?" he asked insinuatingly.
"No, but I got rheumatism in the garden waiting till you had finished."
"Me massaggee Missee, culle pletty quick," he made answer.
I told him to do his worst and he massaged my ankles and calves most dexterously, working up to my knees. I was lying with my nightdress up to the knees.
"You feelee ache further up?" he enquired blandly.
"Ah Sin," I answered, "I want you to massage me all over, but remember, if you tell any one this, you lose a good place."
"Me silent man like tomb," he answered.
"Then take my night dress off and begin."
In a moment I was stark naked and he was operating on my thighs. He rubbed me all over and though he went near enough to my private parts, he never took a liberty. He was always the servant, obeying the mistress' commands, and that attitude I intended him to continue. I managed to behave as if this was just an every day matter—though inwardly I was boiling with lust.
"You've very strong arms, Ah Sin," I said at last. "Take your coat off and let me see your muscles," I commanded.
In a moment he was stripped to the waist and he was splendidly developed and his skin was like polished yellow ivory.
"Me stronger in the legs," he said. "Let me see them."
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A second magician-like manipulation of his garments and Ah Sin stood before me in the garb of Adam before the fall. And he could no longer disguise the fact that he was amorous. A yellow ivory staff projected from his stomach, crowned with a purple knob.
What I did with Ah Sin is difficult to describe. I managed all the time to preserve my dignity as mistress.
First of all he sucked me and the yellow devil had a tongue which seemed a foot long. Then he fucked me from behind, fucked me most delicately and exquisitely, giving me the seventh heaven of pleasure, and then he fucked me belly to belly, always, even in the transports of our lust, preserving a respectful demeanour and never daring to breathe a word of love. I ended the séance by turning him over the end of the bed and flogging his bottom soundly with a stay busk. Then I made him fetch me another drink and dismissed him with a sovereign.
Next evening I was left alone again. Lewis was having a late night at his bucket shop business. It was his pay night, and after a long extra time evening he used to pay his lady clerks. He employed only lady clerks at Runcorne's because they don't talk business out of business hours and because also, he liked women. I gathered subsequently, from one of his ex-clerks, that on those nights he received each one of the girls separately in his room and solemnly felt them before he paid their wages; if a girl didn't like it, she could go, and Runcorne's was a well paid situation for a girl, so it is seldom that one of them jibbed. Lewis was very open in his amours but he always managed to steer clear of any scandal.
For instance, he once seduced a young girl of fifteen in one of his choruses. Next day the girl's mother presented herself at his office.
"You have seduced my daughter..." she began.
"Well," said Lewis, reaching for his check book; "I suppose fifty pounds."
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She took an open check for fifty pounds.
"Now clear out," said Lewis, "and take your daughter away from my theatre."
She had not been gone a minute before Lewis called his bank and stopped payment on the check. He was perfectly safe, for the very fact that the mother took the money made her an accessory after the act.
I knew that Lewis would not be back that night for he usually selected one of his harem who pleased him most to take upstairs to his private suite of rooms at Runcorne's.
To diverge again, I might mention a really delightful stroke of business on Lewis' part during the time I was with him.
He bought a house in the smartest street and started a brothel there, a very flaring, giddy, up-to-date brothel. Naturally, the other residents resented the neighbourhood of the place, got rid of their houses and all the rents fell. When they had fallen considerably, Lewis took the opportunity of buying up the street, closed the brothel, and presently the street was once more a very desirable one, and the values rose again and he was enabled to sell at a very large profit.
But to return to Ah Sin. I looked him straight in the face when he came in that evening and said solemnly: "Now Ah Sin, remember what happened last night must not be known to a soul, nor even suspected."
He spread out his hands: "Me not dlam fooi, Missee," he answered.
"How do you feel this evening, Ah Sin," I continued.
"Velly wicked," he replied, "me catchee big cockstand."
I pleased myself with frigging it, making the veins swell up almost to the bursting point, while poor Ah Sin wriggled and looked at me with
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supplicating eyes. But he refrained from touching me, though I lay right under his eyes in all my tempting nakedness.
Of course, I let him at last; he forgot himself and promised me extraordinary delights. And he was as good as his word. He lay on his back on the rug and while in that position he lifted me in the air above him. Then, ever so gently, he fixed me onto his penis, and still holding me in the air, manipulated me on it with such dexterity that my rapture was heavenly. He seemed to anticipate the moment of my greatest bliss, and pressing me right onto his penis, till our hairs met and our heaving bellies came together, we mingled our torrents.
After he had bathed me, syringed me with the dexterity of a professional nurse, brought a heavenly cocktail, and massaged my limbs till my lassitude was entirely dispelled, I made him sit down and talk to me for a while.
The scene was an odd one: a beautiful naked English girl, her long hair enveloping her to below the waist, lying on the bed gracefully toying with the hairs on her mount of Venus.
On the walls a collection of suggestive French pictures, and in an armchair, a muscular Chinaman, also naked, his staff of love in the half and half condition that follows a heavy fuck, but is maintained in some degree of naughtiness by the sensual surroundings.
"Ah Sin, how is it that you do wickedness so nicely?"
"They teachee me in school," was his astounding answer.
It appeared from the tale he unfolded that his mother was one of the famous prostitutes in a flower boat, and as she had connection with only very rich men, it is probable that his father was at least a Mandarin. In this floating brothel he had been brought up, and from his earliest days had been accustomed to sights of untrammelled lust. He soon knew all the tricks of the trade. 72
His flower boat made a specialty of providing indecent shows, and at a very early age, Ah Sin began to take a part in these. He underwent the usual operations performed on the male children born in a brothel and had his anus distended so that he could easily take a man's penis into it. He told me all this without the slightest shame, but added that he had not often been called upon to be buggered, owing to his efficiency in licking off the prostitutes as a show scene.
At the age of 17 he became assistant manager and head showman to a wealthy old pimp who ran three of these flower boats. In this capacity he produced some really fine pornographic shows for wealthy Cantonese and he referred to his triumphs with pardonable pride, his penis swelling at the recollection.
He produced one ballet of one hundred virgins and an equal number of handsome youths. They performed elaborate dances stark naked and then on grouped couches, the youths deflowered the virgins. He admitted, however, that perchance all the maidens were not exactly virgins, but 70 per cent of them were. It was the most expensive entertainment he had ever produced.
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CHAPTER VIII
I stayed with Lewis for over a year. It was in a way pleasant, money was plentiful, and I was always the mistress of a charming little salon— but Lewis began to be trying with the women he forced on me.
I did not mind his smart London girls who were always dapper and frequently delightful, with their expensive frocks and their elegant lingerie, but when it came to his wandering Northwards for his inamoratas, well!
He had embarked in business with a Mr. Rudder, a wholesale merchant, in dancing girls and chorus girls. This man lived in Manchester in a mean street with a considerable gymnasium at the back of his premises, and hired out his harlots all over the world. He had no vice but one, Flappers, well not exactly flappers, but the class of ex-servant girl whom he generally found suitable for his companies and companions. They were about 20 or so in age, and they seldom washed. Some of them were clever and I did not mind their loose table manners, but there was one whom I could not stick to.
She was Scotch—a Glasgow girl—whom Mr. Rudder had picked up in Cowcadden Street, and she was certainly good-looking, when she was washed, which was very seldom. But she was ill tempered, feckless, vulgar, and her heart was as false as her teeth.
Lewis told me she was one of the best fucks he had ever had—she had been seduced it appeared by a fat proprietor of a Musical Comedy show, and I put up with her vulgarity for a bit. Common to the core, though she was, she had a certain female sympathy, and I used to lend her under clothes—I always burned the drawers when she returned them, which was not often.
Lewis brought her home many times—and I shuddered when she scratched her head, but when—after I knew she had been with him on the drawing room sofa, while I had been seeing to lunch—she
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scratched another portion of her body, I would have no more of it. I would not eat and I telephoned for friends.
Walker Bird was the first I got connected with—on the telephone—and he phoned me to come to the office.
I said goodbye to the Scotch lady, who excused her irritation on the score that her bladder was affected, and went to the Dial offices where Walker Bird was temporarily striving to keep the broker's men from the door. I met him outside, nervously pacing up and down.
"My dear child," he said, 'Tm glad to see you. I can't go into that office; there are rude persons there, but I want to see my publisher and I want some one to go with me. I must have companionship. You ought to come with me, he's worth seeing, quite a curie. He comes from one of those appalling North Country towns, where everyone has money and no aspirates, or aspirations for that matter. His language may alarm you but he doesn't mean it really; it's only the drink bubbling.
"He used to be good looking and thinks he is still, and boasts a great deal about his successes with women. As a matter of fact he has been practically impotent for years but when he got just the right amount of liquor into him, he's amusing. When he hasn't, he's dull and when he's had too much, he's a hog. He's taking up religious stuff, it interests him in contrast to the more profitable part of his business, which consists in selling dirty books and pictures. He thinks he'll do me over the publications, but he won't; I know exactly the right mood to catch him when a contract needs signing."
We got there at last, it was an Old World place in the riot of London life. A tattered man, smelling strongly of drink, let us in.
"That's a broker's man," said Walker. "Blythe has money really, but he always has them with him 'like the poor.' They are company with him, he gets on better with them than he does with the authors he has to meet and all the dear, dirty-minded poets he used to maintain are
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dead. As he truly says, broker's men are better than modern novelists; both only do it as a pose, because it's Bohemian—but I hear Mr. Blythe."
Mr. Blythe was wrangling with his confidential typewriter about the correct translation of a passage from the French. At the final word 'bitch' the door swung open and an agitated woman came out.
"Mr. Blythe will see you directly," she said apprehensively; "if you will sit here."
We sat in a little anteroom—dull cursing was heard from within. "He will probably want me to come out and have a drink," said Walker, "and you might humour him. He is apt to be very rude to women when they refuse him and it is necessary for him to have a whiskey very often. He is a queer creature, all the elements of a cultured brain, escaped from scholastic torture of some appalling North Country school; a sort of place with dust all over it, and an asphalt playground and horizontal bars—but here he comes."
Mr. Blythe opened the door cautiously and poked his head out, he was obviously very short sighted and peered at us.
"Come in," he said, speaking a broad South Yorkshire, as he recognized Mr. Bird.
"Miss Hunt," said Walker.
"Oh yes, I've heard of you; shall we go out and 'ave a drink?"
"Just a minute," said Walker, "what about my book?"
"Ere's a check."
Walker pocketed it. "And about that other little book, the one printed 'sub-rosa'—oh, it's all right, Miss Hunt understands."
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"I'll take you to the place and show you, but just one drink first."
We drank in a smelly Pub, and then drove with frequent stoppages for "one more" to Chelsea, where the place was. Mr. Blythe improved on acquaintance. He had a very ready humour, if not always a decent one, but he had the knack of cracking his jokes quickly with no unnecessary verbiage.
He quarrelled with the cabman about his fare, and we entered into his place. It was an odd place, in an off street, near a busy thoroughfare, but quiet itself. Middle-aged women of forbidding aspect stood at the doors of their houses and glowered. I'm afraid little Nemmy's rather up-to-date clothing annoyed them. I heard the word "whore" distinctly as I left the cab.
We were let in by an extraordinary individual who chuckled continuously and was remarkably dirty and unshaved.
The Guvnor, he explained, would be down in a minnit, and we went in to what I presume would be called the parlour. Mr. Blythe left us and tripping over a bicycle on the way, he wobbled down the passage, cursing dully. The scent of bacon cooking permeated the place.
Presently the Guvnor arrived. He was a fat and portentous person of an age difficult to guess; it might have been twenty-five or forty, and he spoke as he moved, ponderously, humming some cryptic air all the time. He shook hands elaborately and fired a voluptuous glance at me.
He was a man of contrasts, he looked like a dock hand and drank like one (for whiskey brought by the old man servant was immediately presented), but he spoke like a gentleman and I immediately found out that when excited over any subject his intelligence bubbled out, and he talked clearly and well. I rather took to him, to my peril, for in Walker's absence to look at proofs, he made a dash for me and after upsetting an armchair and utterly ruining two whiskies, and soda, in the chase, he was only brought up by the entrance of a tall, stooping
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man with peroxide hair, who might also have been any age, and was called Percy, and was obviously the worse for drink.
He was introduced and gurgled something, placing his handkerchief to his mouth and removing an upper false set of teeth, which he placed along with his handkerchief in his inside pocket. He sat in an armchair, lit a cigarette, muttered about "flappers" and at once went to sleep.
Mr. Umps, the Guvnor told me after I had got the table securely between us, was a young man of a certain amount of intelligence, who had a good deal of money well wasted on his education, and who now lived in a continual atmosphere of thinking brilliant things which never had a dog's chance of coming off, wrote indifferent musical comedies for which he seldom got paid and had three separate ideas of heaven: (1) to be always riding in ransom cabs, (2) Flappers, and (3) to be always drunk. At this point the man called Percy woke up, hastily swallowed the Guvnor's drink, changed his side, murmured something and again relapsed into stertorous sleep, flapping his legs vaguely.
Walker Bird appeared at last. He had arranged his little business, he said, and proposed to take me out to dine. We dined well!
After liqueurs a very good looking man crossed the room. He was obviously impressed with me, and Walker presented him and the tiny touch of his hand make me shiver throughout.
The Duke of Oldcaster, Walker had said. And that is the end of Nemesis Hunt for the present. I had never really believed in love at first sight— but that man; his handsome face, his title and his reputed wealth upset me.
I was carried away. Lewis could go to hell. Walker saw it; too. I made an excuse to get rid of him, and was left alone with the young Duke.
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The Commissaire had called my cab at the door of the restaurant. I was going, when the Duke suggested his brougham. I gave in; threw everything over the mill and went.
He banged me back on the seat of the brougham, kissed me roughly, and before I knew where I was, he had his hand—well—WELL above my knee.
This is the present finish of Nemesis Hunt, and her Confessions. Some day I may write of my relations with the Duke of Oldcaster and some others.
Gladys places the cover over the typewriter, clicks the lock, and we are finished, but I warn you, look out for more trouble.
THE END 79

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