                          THE FOURTEENTH DAY

       It was discovered upon that day that the weather had lent its
approval to our libertines' infamous enterprises, and had removed them
to an even greater distance from the probability they would be spied
upon by mortal eyes; an immense blanket of snow had fallen, it filled
the surrounding vale, seeming to forbid even to wild beasts access to
our scoundrels' retreat; of all human beings, there was not one that
existed who could dare hope to reach where they lay fast. Ah, it is
not readily to be imagined how much voluptuousness, lust, fierce joy
are flattered by those sureties, or what is meant when one is able to
say to oneself: "I am alone here, I am at the world's end, withheld
from every gaze, here no one can reach me, there is no creature that
can come nigh where I am; no limits, hence, no barriers; I am free."
Whereupon, thus situate, desires spring forth with an impetuosity
which knows no bounds, stops at nothing, and the impunity that
electrifies them most deliciously increases all their drunkenness.
There, nothing exists save God and one's conscience; well, what weight
may the former exert, of what account may God be in the eyes of an
atheist in heart and brain? and what sway is the conscience to enjoy,
what influence upon him who is so accustomed to vanquishing remorse,
routing guilt, that so to do becomes for him a game, nay, a little
pleasure? Luckless flock delivered to the murderous tooth of such
villains; how would you have trembled had you not still been in
ignorance of what lay in store for you!
       That day was a festival, the second week had ended, the second
marriage was to be celebrated; Messieurs were in a glad humor and
thought not but to frolic on that holiday. The marriage to take place
was that of Narcisse and Hb, but, cruel fate it was also decreed
that the bride and groom were both doomed to be punished that same
evening; and thus, from the warm embrace of hymeneal pleasures they
were to move directly to the more bitter lessons taught in this
school, how unkind! Little Narcisse, who was not a dull fellow,
remarked this irony, but Messieurs none the less proceeded to the
usual ceremonies. The Bishop officiated, the couple was conjoined in
very holy matrimony, and they were permitted to do to each other,
before the public's eyes, all they wanted to do; but, who would have
believed it? the order was of a too liberal scope, or too well
understood, and the little husband, who had an aptitude for learning,
perfectly delighted with the prospect before him but unable to
introduce himself into his pretty wife, was however about to deflower
her with his fingers, and would have, had he been given his way. Firm
hands intervened just in time, and the Duc, making off with Hb,
thigh-fucked her on the spot, while the Bishop did likewise with
Narcisse.
       Dinner came next, the newly-wedded couple were admitted to the
feast, and as they had been given and commanded prodigiously to eat,
both upon leaving the table shitted handsomely, one for Durcet's
benefit, the other for Curval's, who, after having swallowed those
little products of childhood, smacked their lips and declared 'twas
delicious.
       Coffee was served by Augustine, Fanny, Cladon, and Zphyr. The
Duc bade Augustine frig Zphyr, and the latter shit in the nobleman's
mouth at the same time he discharged; the operation was a stunning
success, so much so that the Bishop wanted to duplicate it with
Cladon; Fanny attended to the frigging, and the little fellow
received orders to shit in Monseigneur's mouth the moment he felt his
fuck flow. But the young operatives succeeded less brilliantly than
had their companions: Cladon was never able to co-ordinate his
shitting with his discharge; however, as this exercise was merely a
test of skill, and as the regulations made no mention of the subjects
being obliged to excel in it, no punishment was inflicted upon him.
       Durcet gleaned shit from Augustine, and the Bishop, firmly
erect, had Fanny suck him while she shat in his mouth; he discharged,
and as his crisis was violent, he brutalized Fanny somewhat but,
unhappily, failed to find adequate grounds for having her punished,
great as was his apparent wish to arrange something for her. A greater
tease than the Bishop never lived; no sooner would he finish
discharging than he would wish for nothing better than to see his
pleasure-object gone to the devil; everyone was familiar with his
character, and the little girls, the wives, and the little boys
dreaded nothing as much as helping him to be rid of his fuck.
       The midday nap over, they passed into the auditorium, the
company distributed itself, and Duclos resumed the thread of her
narrative:

       I sometimes used to go into town for parties, said she, and as
they were usually more lucrative, Fournier did her best to procure as
many of that kind as she could.
       She once sent me to the home of an elderly Knight of Malta who
opened a kind of wardrobe filled with cubbyholes, each of which housed
a porcelain chamber pot containing a turd; the old rake had made
arrangements with a sister of his, abbess of one of the most
considerable convents in Paris; that obliging girl, upon his request,
every morning sent him a crate of fresh shit produced by her prettiest
little pensionnaires. He filed away each performance according to a
classifying system, and when I arrived he bade me take down such and
such a number, and it proved to be the most venerable. I presented the
pot to him.
       "Oh yes," said he, "that belongs to a girl of sixteen, lovely
as the day. Frig me while I eat her gift."
       The entire ceremony consisted in twiddling his device and in
dressing my bum before his eyes while he ate, then in replenishing the
pot he had just emptied. He watched me do it, wiped my asshole clean
with his tongue, and discharged while sucking my anus. After that, the
wardrobe is closed and locked, I receive my pay, and our man, whom I
visited at an early hour in the morning, curls up and goes blissfully
back to sleep.
       Another, more extraordinary in my opinion, was an elderly monk.
He enters, demands eight or ten turds from the first person he sees,
girl or boy, it's all the same to him. He mixes them into a paste
which he next kneads like dough, bites into the lump and, eating at
least half of it, discharges into my mouth.
       A third, and of all the men I have met in my life he aroused
the greatest disgust in me, a third, I say, ordered me to open my
mouth wide. I was naked, lying upon a mattress on the floor, and he
was astride me; he popped his stool into my mouth and the villain then
lay down beside me, ate what I spat out, and sprayed his fuck over my
teats.

       "Well, well, that's a pleasant one!" cried Curval; "by Jesus, I
do indeed believe I want to shit, I really must try to. Whom shall I
take, Monsieur le Duc?"
       "Who?" said Blangis. "By my faith, I recommend Julie, my
daughter; she is right there under your hand. You are fond of her
mouth, put it to use."
       "Thank you for the advice," said Julie sullenly. "What have I
done to have you say such things?"
       "Why, since the idea upsets her," said the Duc, "and since
she's a good girl, take Mademoiselle Sophie: she's healthy, pretty,
and she's only fourteen, you know."
       "Very well, it's to be Sophie, that's decided," said Curval,
whose turbulent prick was beginning to gesticulate.
       Fanchon approaches the victim, the poor little wretch's tears
start to fall at once. Curval laughs lightly, brings up his great,
ugly, and dirty behind, pushes it down upon that charming visage, and
gives us the image of a toad about to insult a rose. He is frigged,
the bomb bursts, Sophie loses not so much as a crumb, and the
crapulous magistrate's tongue and lips reclaim what he has launched;
he swallows it all in just four mouthfuls while his prick is being
rubbed upon the belly of the poor little creature who, the operation
once over, vomits her very guts out, and directly upon the nose of
Durcet who has come up posthaste to miss nothing, and who is frigging
himself while being covered.
       "Off you go, Duclos!" said Curval. "On with your tales, and
rejoice at the effect of your discourses; do they not carry the day?"
       And therewith Duclos resumed, warmed to the very cockles of her
heart by the staggering success which had greeted her anecdote.

       The man with whom I held correspondence directly after the one
whose example has just seduced you, said Duclos, insisted that the
woman he was presented have indigestion; in consequence, Fournier, who
had given me no foreknowledge of the thing, had me, during dinner,
swallow a certain laxative drug which softened what my bowels
contained, indeed rendered it fluid, as if my stool had become
transformed into the effect of an enema. Our man arrives and after
several preliminary kisses bestowed upon the object of his whole
veneration, which, by now, was becoming painfully inflated by gases, I
beseech him to start without further delay; the injection is ready to
escape, I grasp his prick, he pants, swallows everything, asks for
still more; I furnish him with a second deluge, it is soon followed by
a third, and the libertine's anchovy finally spits upon my fingers the
unequivocal evidence of the sensation he has received.
       The next day I treated with a personage whose baroque mania
will perhaps find some worshipers amongst yourselves, Messieurs. First
of all, he was installed in the room next to the one in which we
ordinarily operated and in whose wall was that hole so conveniently
placed for observations. He was left alone to arrange himself; a
second actor awaited me in the adjoining chamber: he was a cab driver
we had picked up at random and who was fully apprised of the
situation; as I was too, our cast knew the various roles to
perfection. It was a question of having the Phathon shit squarely
opposite the hole, so that the libertine hidden on the other side of
the partition would miss nothing involved in the spectacle. I catch
the turd upon a plate, see to it that it lands intact, spread the
driver's buttocks, press around his anus, I neglect nothing that can
make shitting comfortable; as soon as my man has done all he has to
do, I snatch up his prick and get him to discharge over the shit, and
all that well within sight of our observer; finally, the package
ready, I dash into the other room.
       "Here you are, take it quickly, Monsieur," I exclaim, "it's
nice and warm."
       There is no necessity to repeat the invitation; he grasps the
dish, offers me his prick, which I frig, and the rascal bolts
everything I tender him while he exhales his fuck in tune with my
diligent hand's elastic movements.

       "And what was the driver's age?" Curval asked.
       "About thirty," Duclos answered.
       "Why, that's nothing at all," said Curval. "Durcet there will
tell you whenever you like that we once knew an individual who did the
same thing, and with positively the same attendant circumstances, but
with a man of sixty or seventy who had to be found in the lowest sewer
of misery and filth."
       "And, you know," said Durcet, "it's only pretty that way." The
financier's little engine had been gradually lifting its head ever
since Sophie's aspersion. "I shall at any given time be happy to do it
with the eldest of veterans."
       "You're stiff, Durcet," said the Duc, "don't deny it, for I
know you: whenever you start that nasty boasting it's because your
fuck is coming to a boil. So hold, good friend; though not so seasoned
in years as you might like, still, to appease your intemperance, I
offer you all I have in my entrails, and I believe you will find it
enough to make a meal upon."
       "Ah, by God's belly!" cried Durcet, "you always serve your
guests well, my dear Duc."
       The Duc entering Durcet's alcove, the latter kneels down before
the buttocks which are to fill him to overflowing with good cheer; the
Duc grunts once, twice, a prodigy tumbles out, the banker swallows
and, transported by this crapulous excess, discharges while swearing
he has never tasted so much pleasure.
       "Duclos," said the Duc, "come do for me what I have done for
our good friend."
       "My Lord," our storyteller replied, "you will recall that I it
this morning, and that you swallowed it."
       "Why, yes, 'tis true," the Duc admitted. "Very well then,
hither, Martaine, I must have recourse to you, for I want none of
those children's asses; I feel my fuck readying to come, but, you
know, it comes reluctantly, and so we need something out of the
ordinary."
       But Martaine's case was that of Duclos, Curval had gobbled her
shit that morning.
       "What! by fuck," cried the Duc, "am I then to fail to find a
turd this evening?"
       Whereupon Thrse advanced and offered the dirtiest, the
broadest, and the most stinking possible of asses you, dear reader,
may hope to behold.
       "Well, that will do, that will do perfectly," said the Duc,
assuming the posture, "and if in my present disorder this infamous ass
I've got here does not produce its effect, I don't know what I'll have
to resort to."
       Dramatic moment; Thrse pushes; the Duc receives! and the
incense was quite as dreadful as the temple whence it emerged, but
when one is as stiff as the Duc was stiff, 'tis never excess of filth
one complains of. Drunk with joy, the scoundrel swallowed every ounce,
and directly into Duclos' face, for she was frigging him, shot the
most indubitable proof of his male vigor.
       Then to table; the ensuing orgies were devoted to the
distribution of justice; that week there were seven delinquents:
Zelmire, Colombe, Hb, Adonis, Adelaide, Sophie, and Narcisse; the
gentle Adelaide was granted no quarter. Zelmire and Sophie also bore
away a few marks of the treatment they had undergone and, without
giving further particulars, since circumstances do not permit us to
give them yet, everyone retired to bed, and in Morpheus' arms
recovered the strength requisite to make further sacrifices to Venus.
