                            THE SECOND DAY

       The company rose at the customary hour. The Bishop, entirely
recovered from his excess, and who, waking at four in the morning, was
deeply shocked to find they had let him go to bed unaccompanied, had
summoned Julie and his fucker for the night to come and occupy their
posts. They answered the call instantly, and in their arms the
libertine plunged back into the thick of new impurities.
       When, in keeping with regulations, breakfast had been taken in
the girls' quarters, Durcet went on his rounds, and, notwithstanding
all the arguments he heard, further delinquencies appeared to his
eyes. Michette was guilty of one kind of fault and Augustine, whom
Curval had ordered to keep herself throughout the day in a certain
state, was found in the absolutely opposite state; she declared she
had forgotten, made a hundred apologies, and promised it would not
happen again, but the quadrumvirate was inexorable, and both names
were inscribed on the list of punishments to be executed come the
first Saturday.
       Highly dissatisfied with all these little girls' ineptness in
the art of masturbation, annoyed by the effects of this awkwardness
with which he had been obliged to put up the previous evening, Durcet
proposed that one hour in the morning be set aside for giving them
lessons, and that the friends take turns rising an hour early, the
exercise period being set from nine until ten - one friend would rise
at nine every morning, I say, to participate in the training. It was
decided that the supervisor would be seated comfortably in a chair in
the middle of the harem and that each little girl, led forth and
guided by Duclos, the best frigger in the castle, would demonstrate
upon the friend, would direct the little girl's hand, her motion,
would explain the intricacies of tempo, how much and how little speed
was required and how that depended on the patient's condition, would
also explain what attitudes and postures were most conducive to the
operation's success; furthermore, punishments were fixed for her who
at the end of a fortnight, despite the lessons, should fail of perfect
proficiency in this art. It was emphasized to the little girls that,
pursuant to the good ecclesiastic's doctrines, the glans was to be
kept uncovered at all times, and that the hand not in action was
meanwhile continually to be employed exciting the adjacent areas, this
in keeping with the particular fancy of the patient.
       The financier's proposal pleased everyone; Duclos was informed,
she accepted her appointment, and that same day she set up a frigging
dummy upon which, in their spare time, the little girls could exercise
their wrists and maintain the necessary degrees of agility and
suppleness. Hercule was given the same instructorship in the boys'
chamber; they being, as always, more skilled in this technique than
the girls, because in the case of boys it is merely a question of
doing for others what they do unto themselves, a week was ample time
to turn them into the most delicious corps of friggers you could ever
hope to meet with. On this particular morning, not one of them was
found at fault, and Narcisse's behavior of the previous day having
brought about the refusal of all permissions, the chapel was empty
save for Duclos, a pair of fuckers, Julie, Thrse, Cupidon, and
Zelmire. Curval was stiff as a ramrod, Adonis had inspired an
astonishingly high temperature in him when, that morning, he had
visited the boys, and it was generally thought he would erupt while
watching Thrse and the two fuckers manage their affairs; but he kept
a grip upon himself.
       The midday meal was the usual affair, but the Prsident, having
drunk a singular amount and frolicked about even more while eating,
became inflamed all over again when coffee was served by Augustine and
Michette, Zlamir and Cupidon, directed by old Fanchon, whom out of
whimsy they had commanded to be as naked as the children. From this
contrast Curval's new lubricious furor was born, and he gave himself
over to some choice extravagances at the expense of Zlamir and the
duenna; this riotous conduct finally cost him his fuck.
       The Duc, pike aloft, closed in upon Augustine; he brayed, he
swore, he waxed unreasonable, and the poor little thing, all atremble,
retreated like a dove before the bird of prey ready to pounce upon it.
He limited himself, however, to a few libertine kisses, and was
content to give her an introductory lesson in advance of the ones she
was to begin the following morning. The two others, less animated,
having already started their naps, our two champions imitated them,
and the quartet did not wake until six o'clock, the hour when the
storytelling began in the throne room.
       All the previous day's quatrains had been altered with respect
to both subjects and dress, and our friends had these couch
companions: the Duc shared his niche with Aline, the Bishop's daughter
and consequently his own niece; beside the Bishop lay his
sister-in-law, Constance, the Duc's wife and Durcet's daughter; Durcet
was with Julie, the Duc's daughter, the Prsident's wife; that he
might be roused from sleep and roused to more, Curval had with him
Adelaide, Durcet's wife, one of the creatures in this world it gave
him the greatest pleasure to tease because of her virtue and her
piety. He opened up with a few scurrile jests and low pranks, and
having ordered her throughout the sance to maintain a posture that
sorted well with his tastes, but which the poor woman found very
tiresome to maintain, he threatened her with all his anger might
produce were she to budge or give him a moment's inconvenience.
Everything being ready, Duclos ascended the platform and resumed her
narration in this wise:

       Three days having elapsed since my mother had appeared at the
house, her husband, far more uneasy about his belongings and his money
than about her, took it into his head to enter her room, where it was
their custom to hide their most precious possessions; and what was his
astonishment when, instead of what he was seeking, he found nothing
but a note, written by my mother, advising him to make the best of his
loss because, having decided to leave him forever, and having no money
of her own, she had been forced to take all she had been able to make
off with. As for the rest, he was to blame himself and his hard use of
her for her departure and for her having left him with two daughters
who were, however, certainly worth as much as and possibly more than
what she had removed. But the old gaffer was far from judging equal
what now he had and what he had just lost, and the dismissal he
graciously gave us, together with the request we not even sleep in the
house that night, was convincing evidence some discrepancy existed
between his way of reckoning and my mother's.
       Not much afflicted by a compliment which gave us full liberty
to launch forth unimpeded into the little mode of life that was
beginning to please us so much, my sister and I thought only to
collect our few belongings and to bid as swift a farewell to our dear
stepfather as he had seen fit to bid us. Without the loss of a minute,
we withdrew, and while waiting to decide how best to come to grips
with our new destinies, we took lodgings in a small room in the
neighborhood. Our first thoughts turned to what might be our mother's
fate and whereabouts; we had not the least doubt but that she had gone
to the monastery, having decided to live secretly with some father, or
that she was being kept somewhere in the vicinity, and this was the
opinion we held, without being unduly concerned, when a friar from the
monastery brought us a note that bore out our conjectures. The
substance of the note was that we would be very well advised,
immediately night had fallen, to come to the monastery and speak to
the Father Superior, who was the note's author; he would wait for us
in the church until ten o'clock and would lead us to the place
presently occupied by our mother, whose actual happiness and peace he
would gladly have us share. He very energetically urged us not to fail
to come, and above all to conceal our movements with all possible
care; for it was essential our stepfather know nothing of what was
being done in behalf of both our mother and ourselves. My sister,
fifteen years old at the time and hence more clever and more
reasonable than I, who was but nine, after having dismissed the bearer
of the letter and given him the reply that she would ponder its
contents, admitted she found all these maneuvers very peculiar indeed.
       "Francon," says she, "let's not go. There's something wrong
with it. If this were an honest proposal, why wouldn't Mother have
either added a few words or made some kind of sign. Father Adrien, her
best friend, left there almost three years ago, and since then she's
only dropped in at the monastery while passing by, and hasn't had any
other regular intrigue there. What would have led her to choose this
place for hiding? The Father Superior isn't her lover and never has
been. I know, it's true she has amused him two or three times, but
he's not the man to lose his head over a woman for that slender
reason: he's even more inconstant and brutal to women once his caprice
is satisfied. And so why would he have taken such an interest in our
mother? There's something queer about it, I tell you. I never liked
that old Superior; he's wicked and harsh, and he's a brute. Once he
got me into his room, there were three more of them there, and after
what happened to me then I swore I'd never set foot in the place
again. If you take my advice, you'll leave all those nasty monks
alone. There's no reason why I shouldn't tell you so now, Francon, I
have an acquaintance, a good friend, I dare say; her name is Madame
Gurin, I've been going to her place for the past two years, and in
all that time not one week has gone by without her arranging something
nice for me. But none of those six-penny fucks like the ones at the
monastery; I get at least three crowns from every one. Here, there's
proof of it," my sister continued, showing me a purse containing more
than ten louis, "you can see I'm able to make my own way in the world.
Well, my advice to you is to do what I do. Gurin will take you on,
I'm sure of it, she got a glimpse of you a week ago when she came to
fetch me for a party, and she told me to make you a proposal, and she
said that, young as you are, she'd always find some way of placing
you. Do like me, I tell you, and we'll be well off in no time. Now,
that's all I've got to say to you; I'll pay your expenses for tonight,
but from then on don't count on me, little sister. Each for himself in
this world. That's what I say. I've earned that money with my body and
my fingers, do the same yourself. And if you have any qualms, go talk
it over with the devil, but don't come looking for me; well, I've told
what I think, and I'll tell you now that I'd sooner stick my tongue
two feet out than give you even a glass of water for nothing. As for
Mother, I don't care what's happened to her, as a matter of fact, even
if it's the worst I'm perfectly delighted, and all I hope is that the
whore is far enough away so I'll never see her again for the rest of
my life. I know all the things she did to prevent me from getting
anywhere in the trade, and all the while she was giving me that fine
advice, the bitch was doing things three times worse. So, may the
devil take her and above all not bring her back, that's all I care."
       Not having, to tell you the truth, a heart more tender, nor a
soul much more generous than my sister's, it was in all good faith I
echoed the invectives wherewith she pilloried that excellent mother,
and thanking my sister for the helpful words she promised to speak in
my behalf, I in my turn promised to follow her to this woman's house
and, once I had been adopted, to put an end to my reliance on her. As
for refusing to go to the monastery, we were fully agreed.
       "If indeed she is happy, so much the better for her," I
commented, "and in that case we can look out for our own welfare
without having to go and submit to the same fate. And if it is a trap
they're setting for us, we've got to avoid it."
       Whereupon my sister embraced me.
       "Splendid," said she, "I see you're a good girl. Don't worry,
we're going to make a fortune. I'm pretty, so are you; we'll earn as
much as we want, my chit, but don't become attached to anyone,
remember that. One today, another tomorrow, you've got to be a whore,
a whore in body and soul. As for myself," she went on, "I'm one now,
such as you see me, and there isn't any confessional, or priest, or
counsel, or threat that could ruin things for me. By Jesus, I'd go
show my ass on the sidewalk as calmly and coolly as I'd drink a glass
of wine. Imitate me, Francon, be amenable and you can get anything out
of men; the trade's a little hard in the beginning, but you'll get
along and things get better. So many men, so many tastes. At first
you've got to expect it, one of them wants one thing, another wants
something else. But that doesn't matter, you're there to please and
give them service; the customer is always right. It doesn't take long,
and then the money's in your pocket."
       I admit I was amazed to hear such wild remarks from a girl so
young, who had always seemed to me so decent. But as my heart beat in
harmony with the spirits of what she said, I let her know at once that
I was not only disposed to duplicate all her actions, but even
prepared to go a great deal further if necessary. Delighted with me,
she fell to embracing me again, and as it was growing late, we sent
out for a chicken and some good wine and supped and slept together,
having decided to present ourselves the very next morning at the
establishment of Madame Gurin and to ask her to include us amongst
her pensionnaires.
       It was during that supper my sister taught me all I still did
not know about libertinage. She showed herself naked to me, and I can
warrant that she was one of the prettiest creatures there was in Paris
at the time: the fairest of skin, the most agreeable plumpness, yet
the most supple and intriguing figure, the loveliest blue eyes, and
all the rest correspondingly fine. I also learned for how long Gurin
had been promoting her interests, and with what great pleasure she
procured her clients who, never tired of her, asked for her
constantly. No sooner were we in bed than it occurred to us we had
managed very badly in failing to give the Father Superior a reply, for
our negligence might annoy him, and while we remained in this quarter
of town it was important to humor him at least. But what was to be
done? Eleven o'clock had struck; we resolved to let things take their
course.
       The adventure probably meant a great deal to the Superior, we
supposed, and hence it was not difficult to surmise that he was
laboring more in his own behalf than in that of the alleged happiness
he had mentioned in his communication; at any rate, midnight had just
sounded when we heard a soft knocking at our door. It was the Superior
himself; he had been waiting for us, said he, since two in the
afternoon, we should at least have given him a response, and, seating
himself at our bedside, he informed us that our mother had decided to
spend the rest of her days in a little secret apartment they had at
the monastery and in which she was having the world's most cheerful
time, improved by the company of all the house's bigwigs who would
drop in to spend half the day with her and with another young woman,
our mother's companion; it was simply up to us to come and increase
the number, but, in that we were a little too young to stay on
permanently, he would only contract us to a three-year's stint, at the
end of which he swore we would be granted our freedom and a thousand
crowns apiece; he added that he had been charged by our mother to
assure us that we would be doing her a great kindness were we to come
to share her solitude.
       "Father," my sister said most imprudently, "we thank you for
your proposal. But at our age we have no inclination to have ourselves
locked up in a cloister in order to be whores for priests, we've had
enough of that already."
       The Superior renewed his arguments, he spoke with a heat and
energy which illustrated his powerful desire to have the thing
succeed; finally observing that it was destined to fail, he hurled
himself almost in a fury upon my sister.
       "Very well, little whore," he cried, "at least satisfy me once
again before I take my leave."
       And unbuttoning his breeches, he got astride her; she offered
no resistance, persuaded that by allowing him to have his way she'd be
rid of him all the sooner. And the smutty fellow, pinning her between
his knees, began to brandish and then to abuse a tough and rather
stout engine, advancing it to within a quarter of an inch of my
sister's face.
       "Pretty face," he gasped, "pretty little whore's face, how I'll
soak it in my fuck, by sweet Jesus!"
       And therewith the sluices opened, the sperm flew out, and the
entirety of my sister's face, especially her nose and mouth, were
covered with evidence of our visitor's libertinage, whose passion
might not have been so cheaply satisfied had his design in coming to
us met with success. More complacent now, the man of God's only
thoughts were of escape; after having flung a crown upon the table and
relit his lantern:
       "You little fools, you are little tramps," he told us. "You are
ruining your chances in this world; may Heaven punish your folly by
causing you to fall on evil days, and may I have the pleasure of
seeing you in misery; that would be my revenge, that is what I wish
you."
       My sister, busy wiping her face, paid him back his stupidities
in kind, and, our door shutting behind the Superior, we spent the
remainder of the night in peace.
       "You've just seen one of his favorite stunts," said my sister.
"He's mad about discharging in girls' faces. If he only confined
himself to that... but the scoundrel has a good many other
eccentricities, and some of them are so dangerous that I do indeed
fear..."
       But my sister was sleepy, she dozed off without completing her
sentence, and the morrow bringing fresh adventures with it, we gave no
more thought to that one.
       We were up early; having prettied ourselves as much as
possible, we set out for Madame Gurin's. That heroine lived in the
rue Soli, in a very neat ground-floor apartment she shared with six
tall young ladies between the ages of sixteen and twenty-two, all in
splendid health, all very pretty. But, Messieurs, you will be so kind
as to allow me to postpone giving their descriptions until the proper
moment in my story arrives. Delighted by the project which brought my
sister to her for a long stay, Madame Gurin greeted us cordially and
with the greatest pleasure showed us our rooms.
       "Young as you may find this child to be," my sister said as she
introduced me, "she will serve you well, I guarantee it. She is
mild-tempered, thoughtful, has a very good character, and the soul of
a thoroughgoing whore. You must have a number of old lechers amongst
your acquaintances who are fond of children; well this is just what
they're looking for... put her to work."
       Turning in my direction, Gurin asked me if I was willing to
undertake anything.
       "Yes, Madame," I answered with something of an indignant air,
and it pleased her, "anything provided it pays."
       We were introduced to our new companions, who already knew my
sister very well and our of friendship for her promised to look after
me. We all sat down to dine together, and such, in a few words,
Messieurs, was how I became installed in my first brothel.
       I was not to remain long unemployed; that same evening, an old
businessman arrived wrapped up in a cloak; Gurin selected him for my
first customer and arranged the match.
       "Ah, this time," said she to the old libertine, leading me
forth, "if it's still hairless you like them, Monsieur Duclos, you'll
be delighted with the article, or your money back. Not a hair on her
body."
       "Indeed," said the old original, peering down at me, "it looks
like a child, yes indeed. How old are you, little one?"
       "Nine, Monsieur."
       "Nine years old! ... Well, well! that's how I like them, Madame
Gurin, that's how I like them, you know. I'd take them even younger
if you had any around. Why, bless my soul, they're ready as soon as
they're weaned."
       And laughing good-naturedly at his remarks, Gurin withdrew,
leaving us alone together. Then the old libertine came up and kissed
me upon the mouth two or three times. With one of his hands guiding
mine, he had me pull from his fly a little device that could not have
been more limp; continuing to act more or less in silence, he untied
my skirts, lay me upon the couch with my blouse raised high upon my
chest, mounted astride my thighs which he had separated as far as
possible; with one hand he pried open my little cunt while the other
put all his strength into manipulating his meager machine. "Ah, pretty
little bird," he said as he agitated himself and emitted sighs of
pleasure, "ah, how I'd tame you if I were still able to, but I can't
anymore. There's no remedy for it, in four year's time this bugger of
a prick will have ceased to get stiff. Open up, open up, my dearest,
spread your legs." And finally after fifteen minutes of struggle, I
observed my man to sigh and pant with greater energy. A few oaths lent
strength to his expression, and I felt the area surrounding my cunt
inundated with the hot, scummy seed which the rascal, unable to shoot
it inside, was attempting to tamp down with his fingertips.
       He had no sooner done so than he was gone like a flash of
lightning, and I was still cleaning myself when my gallant passed out
on the door and into the street. And so it was I came, Messieurs, to
be named Duclos; the tradition in this house was for each girl to
adopt the name of her firstcomer. I obeyed the custom.

       "One moment there," said the Duc. "I delayed interrupting you
until you came to a pause; you are at one now. Would you provide
further information upon two matters: first, have you ever had any
news of your mother, have you ever discovered what became of her?
Secondly, was there any cause for the antipathy you and your sister
had for her, or would you say these feelings were naturally inculcate
in you both? This relates to the problem of the human heart, and 'tis
upon that we are concentrating our major efforts."
       "My Lord," Duclos replied, "neither my sister nor I have ever
heard the slightest word from that woman."
       "Excellent," said the Duc, "in that case it's all very clear,
wouldn't you say so, Durcet?"
       "Incontestably," answered the banker. "Not a shadow of a doubt,
and you are very fortunate you did not put your foot in that one.
Neither of you would ever have got out."
       "'Tis incredible," Curval commented, "what headway that mania
 has made with public."
       "Why, no; after all, there's nothing more delicious," the
 Bishop replied.
       "And the second point?" asked the Duc, addressing the
 storyteller.
       "As for the second point, my Lord, that is to say, as for the
reason for our antipathy, I'm afraid I should be hard pressed to
account for it, but it was so violent in our two hearts that we both
made the avowal that we would in all probability and very easily have
poisoned her had we not managed, as it turned out, to be rid of her by
other means. Our aversion had reached the ultimate degree of
intensity, and as nothing overt occurred to give rise to it, I should
judge it most likely that this sentiment was inspired in us by
Nature."
       "What doubt of it can there be?" said the Duc. "It happens
every day that she implants the most violent inclination to commit
what mortals call crimes, and had you poisoned her twenty times over,
this act would never have been anything but the result of the penchant
for crime Nature put in you, a penchant she wishes to draw your
attention by endowing you with such a powerful hostility. It is
madness to suppose one owes something to one's mother. And upon what,
then, would gratitude be based? is one to be thankful that she
discharged when someone once fucked her? That would suffice, to be
sure. As for myself, I see therein naught but grounds for hatred and
scorn. Does that mother of ours give us happiness in giving us life?
...Hardly. She casts us into a world beset with dangers, and once in
it, 'tis for us to manage as best we can. I distinctly recall that,
long ago, I had a mother who aroused in me much the same sentiments
Duclos felt for hers: I abhorred her. As soon as I was in a position
to do so, I dispatched her into the next world; may she roast there;
never in my life have I tasted a keener delight than the one I knew
when she closed her eyes for the last time."
       At this point dreadful sobs were heard to come from one of the
quatrains. It proved to be the Duc's; upon closer examination it was
discovered that young Sophie had burst into tears. Provided with a
heart unlike those villains', their conversation had brought to mind
the cherished memory of her who had given her life, and who had
perished in an effort to protect her while she was being abducted;
this cruel vision offered itself to her tender imagination, a flood of
tears ensued.
       "Ah, by God, now!" said the Duc, "that's splendid. It's for
mama you're crying, is it, my little snotface? Come here, come along,
let me comfort you."
       And the libertine, warmed by what had been happening, by these
words of his, and by the effects they produced, displayed a thunderous
prick which was apparently speeding toward a discharge. Marie, the
quatrain's duenna, led the child forward all the same. Her tears
flowed abundantly down her cheeks, the novice's dress she was wearing
that day seemed to lend yet more charm to the sorrow which embellished
her looks: it was impossible for a creature to be lovelier.
       "By the Holy Bugger," quoth the Duc, springing up like one gone
out of his mind, "what a pretty mouthful we have here. I'm going to do
what Duclos has just described... smear some fuck on her cunt...
Undress her."
       And everyone silently awaited the issue of this little
skirmish.
       "Oh! my Lord, my Lord!" cried Sophie, casting herself at the
Duc's feet, "at least respect my sorrow, I groan for my mother's fate,
she was dear to me, she died defending me, I shall never see her
again. Have pity upon my tears, grant me this one evening of respite."
       "Why, fuck my eyes!" the Duc exclaimed, fondling his
heaventhreatening prick, "I'd never have believed this scene could be
so voluptuous. Off with her clothes, I tell you to take them off," he
roared at Marie, "she should already be naked."
       And Aline, lying upon the Duc's couch, shed warm tears, so did
Adelaide, who was heard to utter a moan in Curval's alcove; the
latter, in no wise partaking of that lovely creature's grief,
violently scolded his playmate for having shifted from the position he
had commanded her to keep, and, that done, turned an appreciative gaze
upon the delicious scene whose outcome interested him exceedingly.
       Sophie's clothes are removed without the faintest regard for
her feelings, she is placed in the posture Duclos has just described,
the Duc announces that he is about to discharge. But how is the thing
to be done? What Duclos has just related had been performed by a man
virtually incapable of an erection, and he had been able to direct his
flabby prick's discharge wherever he wished. Such was not the case
here: the threatful head of the Duc's engine had not the least
inclination to lower the awful stare whereby it seemed bent on cowing
heaven; it appeared necessary, so to speak, to place the child on
high. No one knew what to do, and the more obstacles were encountered,
the more the enraged Duc fumed and blasphemed. Desgranges finally came
to the rescue; nothing that pertained to libertinage was unknown to
that sage old dame. She caught up the child and set her so skillfully
upon her knees that, whatever the stance the Duc might adopt, the end
of his prick was sure to nudge her vagina. Two servants came up to
hold Sophie's legs, and had it been her deflowering hour, never might
she have displayed the merchandise to better advantage. But there was
yet more to attend to: a clever hand was needed to cause the torrent
to leap its banks and to direct the flood fairly to its destination.
Blangis had no desire to entrust so important a matter to an untutored
child.
       "Take Julie," Durcet suggested, "she'll suit you; she's
beginning to frig like an angel."
       "Bah," muttered the Duc, "I know the clumsy bitch. And she
knows her father. No, she'd be panic-stricken, she'd fumble it."
       "Upon my soul, I do recommend a boy for the job," said Curval;
"why not Hercule? His wrist is like a whip."
       "I won't have anyone but Duclos," the Duc answered, "she's the
best of our friggers, allow her to quit her post for a moment or two."
       Duclos steps forward, beaming with pride to have been accorded
so distinguished a preference. She rolls her sleeve to the elbow and
grasps the nobleman's enormous instrument, she sets to rattling that
spear, keeps the foreskin snapped broadly back, she moves it with such
art, she agitates it by means of strokes so swift and simultaneously
so perfectly attuned to the state she observes her patient to be in,
that the bomb finally explodes upon the very hole it is to cover,
inundating it. The Duc shrieks, swears, storms. Duclos is disconcerted
not in the least, she gauges her movements by the degree of pleasure
they produce. Antinos, properly situated for this function,
delicately works the sperm into the vagina as proportionally it flows
from the spigot, and the Duc, vanquished by the most delicious
sensations, dying from joy, sees grow gradually slack, between his
frigger's fingers, that high-spirited, mettlesome member whose ardor
has just been so powerfully communicated to the rest of himself. He
flings himself back upon his sofa, Duclos strides back to her throne,
the child wipes herself, is consoled, and regains her quatrain, and
the recital continues, leaving the spectators convinced of a truth
wherewith, I believe, they have already been penetrated for a long
time: that the idea of crime is able always to ignite the senses and
lead us to lubricity.

       I was greatly surprised, said Duclos, taking up the thread of
her narrative, to see all my companions laugh when I returned, and ask
me if I had wiped myself, and say a thousand other things which proved
they knew perfectly well what had just happened. I was not long left
in my quandary; leading me into a room adjacent to the one in which
the parties ordinarily took place and in which a short while before I
had been at work, my sister showed me a hole to see everything that
transpired there. She told me that the young ladies found it diverting
to watch what men did to their colleagues; I could come and do some
spying whenever I wished, provided there was not someone already at
the hole. For it not infrequently occurred, said she, that this
respectable hole had a part in mysteries which would be disclosed to
me later on. The week was not out before I took advantage of my
opportunities: one morning someone came and asked for a girl named
Rosalie, one of the most lovely blondes it were possible to behold; I
was curious to see what was to be done to her. I hid myself and
witnessed the following scene.
       The man with whom she had to cope was no older than twenty-six
or thirty. Immediately she entered, he had her sit down on a very high
stool used especially for this ceremony. As soon as she was settled,
he removed all her combs and hairpins and down all the way to the
floor floated in a cloud the superb golden hair that adorned Rosalie's
head. He drew a comb from his pocket, combed her hair, took handfuls
of it, tangled it, kissed it, everything he did was accompanied by
remarks praising the beauty of that hair in which he took such a keen
and exclusive interest. At last, from out of his trousers he pulled a
smart little prick, already quite stiff, and he promptly enveloped it
in his Dulcinea's hair; once well wrapped, he began to fondle his dart
and discharged, at the same time passing his other arm around
Rosalie's neck and applying his lips to her mouth. He extricated his
defunct engine, I saw that my companion's hair was matted with
glistening fuck; she cleaned it, put it up again, and our lovers
separated.
       A month later, someone came in quest of my sister; this
personage, I was told by the others, merited observing, for he had a
most baroque specialty. He was a man of about fifty. Straightway he
entered, without any preamble, without a caress, he exhibited his
behind to my sister, who knew her part to perfection; he has her take
her place on the bed, he backs toward her, she seizes that flaccid and
wrinkled old ass, drives her five fingers into the orifice, and begins
to struggle and battle and worry it with such force the bed creaks. Be
that as it may, without bringing anything else to light, our man
wriggles, twitches, follows my sister's movements, lends himself
luxuriously to this fearful abuse, cries he is coming, comes, and
affirms this is the greatest of all pleasures. He had indeed taken a
furious buffeting, my sister was in a sweat; but what mild stuff! what
lack of imagination!
       Although the gentleman with whom I had to do not long afterward
was hardly more difficult to satisfy, he at least seemed more
voluptuous and, in my view, his mania had more of the libertine
tincture. He was a heavy-set man of about forty-five, short, sturdy,
but energetic and hearty. Never having met a person with his
predilection, my first act, as soon as we were alone together, was to
hoist my skirts to the navel: a dog confronted by a hickory stick
could not have looked more unhappy: "Good God, dearie, let's not have
any of your cunt, please put it away." So saying, he snatched down my
skirts even more hastily than I had raised them. "These poor little
whores," he mumbled, screwing up his face in a pout, "never have
anything but cunts to show you. I may not be able to discharge this
evening, thanks to that exhibition... unless I can succeed in getting
the accursed image of that cunt out of my head." Whereupon he turned
me about and methodically raised my petticoats from behind. Guiding me
himself, and keeping my skirts raised at all times, he moved me about
in order to observe how my buttocks bounced when I walked, and then he
had me approach the bed, upon which he had me lie belly down. Next,
with the most scrupulous attention he examined my ass, with one hand
screening his eyes to avoid any glimpse of my cunt whereof, it
appeared, he was in mortal terror. At last, having warned me to do all
in my power to conceal that unworthy (I employ his expression) part
from his sight, he brought both hands to bear on my ass and
manipulated it lewdly and at length: he opened it, he closed it again,
spread and squeezed it, sometimes he applied his mouth to it, and once
or twice I even felt him press his lips to the hole; but he still had
not touched himself, nothing could be discerned. None the less, he
must have felt hidden pressures mount and readied himself for the
denouement of his little ritual. "Lie down," he told me, tossing a few
pillows on the floor, "yes, down there, that's it, that will do...
with your legs well spread, the ass a shade higher, and the hole
stretched as wide open as it will go; come now, wider still," he
continued, noticing my docility. And then, taking a stool and placing
it between my legs, he sat down in such a way that his prick, which he
now dragged from his breeches and began to vibrate, was as it were at
a level with the hole upon which he was to offer a libation. His
movements now grew more rapid, with one hand he frigged himself, with
the other he separated my buttocks, and a few adulatory commendations
seasoned with a quantity of hard language constituted his speech. "Ah,
bugger the Almighty, here 'tis, the lovely ass," he cried, "the sweet
little hole, and how I'm going to wet it." He kept his word. I felt
myself soaked; his ecstasy seemed to annihilate the libertine. Ah, how
true it is that the homage rendered at this temple is always more
ardent than the incense which is burned at the other; and my
worshipper left after promising to return to see me again, for he
averred I satisfied his desires very well. He did indeed come back the
next day, but was untrue to me, his inconstancy led him to my sister's
asshole; I observed them, saw everything: every aspect of the rite was
absolutely the same, and my sister lent herself to it with the same
good will.

       "Did your sister have a handsome ass?" Durcet inquired.
       "You may judge by one fact, my Lord," Duclos replied. "A famous
painter commissioned to do a Venus with a magnificent behind asked her
the following year to be his model after having, he said, consulted
every procuress in Paris without finding anything to equal her."
       "Well now, since she was fifteen and since we have a few girls
of the same age here, compare her ass," the financier continued, "with
some of the asses you see in this room."
       Duclos' eyes came to rest upon Zelmire, and she told Durcet
that it would be impossible, not only with respect to the ass, but
even with respect to the face, to find anyone who bore a closer
resemblance to her sister.
       "In that case," said Durcet, "come here, Zelmire, present your
cheeks."
       She did indeed belong to his quatrain; the charming girl
approached all atremble. She was placed at the foot of the couch, made
to lie upon her belly, her rump was raised by means of cushions, the
little hole was in plain sight. The lecher's prick begins to rise, he
falls to kissing and fondling what lies under his nose. He orders
Julie to frig him, she sets to work, his hands stray hither and yon,
snatching at divers objects, lust heats his brain, under Julie's
voluptuous treatment his little prick looks as if it were about to
stiffen, the lecher swears, the fuck flows, and the bell sounds for
dinner.
       As the same profusion reigned at every meal, to have described
one is to have described them all; but as almost everyone had
discharged, there was a general need to recuperate strength, and
therefore the friends drank a great deal at this supper. Zelmire, to
whom they gave the sobriquet of Duclos' sister, was to an uncommon
degree regaled during the subsequent orgies, and everyone simply had
to kiss her ass. The Bishop left a puddle of fuck thereon, the three
others restiffened over it, and they went to bed as they had the night
before, that is to say, each with the wife he had had upon his couch,
and with one of the four fuckers who had not appeared since the midday
meal.
