                            THE SIXTH DAY

       It was Monseigneur's turn to assist at the masturbations; he
presented himself. Had Duclos' disciples been males, Monseigneur would
probably not have been able to resist them. But a little crack below
the navel was a frightful blemish in his eyes, and had the Graces
themselves encircled him, once he had caught sight of that
imperfection nothing more would have been needed to calm him. And so
he put up an indomitable defense, I even believe his prick remained
limp, and the operations were continued.
       Nothing could be plainer than that Messieurs were extremely
eager to find fault with the eight little girls so as to procure
themselves the following day, which was the fatal Saturday of
retribution, so as, I say, at this time to procure themselves the
pleasure of punishing all eight. They had six already on the list; the
sweet and beautiful Zelmire made the seventh; did she in all good
faith really merit correction? or was it simply that the pleasure of
inflicting the proposed penalty won out in a struggle with strict
equity? we leave the question to be decided by the wise Durcet's
conscience; our task is simply to record events. One very fair dame
further swelled the miscreants' ranks: 'twas the gentle Adelaide.
Durcet, her husband, appeared anxious to set an example by pardoning
less in her than in the others, and it was he himself she happened to
disappoint. He had led her to a certain place where the services she
had been forced to render him, after certain of his functions, were
something less than absolutely clean or palatable; not everyone is as
depraved as Curval, and although Adelaide was his daughter, she had
none of his tastes. She may have balked. Or she may have managed
poorly. Or, again, it might only have been some teasing on Durcet's
part. Whatever the cause, she was inscribed upon the punishment list,
to the vast satisfaction of nearly all concerned.
       The examination of the boys' quarters having unearthed nothing,
the friends moved on to the arcane pleasures of the chapel, pleasures
all the more piquant and all the more extraordinary in that even those
who besought permission to come and procure them, were usually refused
admittance. Constance, two subaltern fuckers, and Michette were the
only ones to attend that morning's party.
       At dinner, Zphyr, of whom they were becoming prouder every
day, what for the charms which seemed more and more to embellish him
and the voluntary libertinage wherein he was making great strides,
Zphyr, I say, insulted Constance who, although no longer a waitress,
nevertheless always appeared at the midday meal. He called her a
baby-maker and struck her several blows in the belly to teach her,
said he, to lay eggs with her lover, then he kissed the Duc, caressed
him, gave his prick a few affectionate tugs, and managed so
successfully to fire that hero's brain that Blangis swore the
afternoon would not pass without his moistening Zphyr with fuck; and
the little rascal nagged the Duc, daring him to do it at once. As
Zphyr was to serve coffee, he left at dessert time and reappeared
naked with the Duc's cup. Instantly they were settled in the salon,
the Duc, very animated, began with one or two smutty remarks; then
sucked the child's mouth and prick, set him on a chair, his ass at the
level of his mouth, and earnestly pumped at his hole for fifteen
minutes. His prick rebelled at last, dressed its lofty head, and the
Duc saw very clearly that the homage required some incense after all.
However, their contract forbade everything save the expedient employed
the day before; the Duc resolved therefore to emulate his associates.
He had Zphyr crouch on a sofa, drove his engine between the lad's
thighs, but what had befallen Curval happened also to the Duc: his
device protruded half a foot beyond.
       "You'd best do as I did," Curval advised, "frig the child
against your prick, water your glans with his fuck."
       But the Duc found it more pleasant to impale two at the same
time. He besought his brother to fit Augustine in place, her buttocks
were pressed flush against Zphyr's thighs and the Duc, thus
simultaneously fucking a boy and a girl, as it were, to put yet a
little more of the lubricious into the thing, frigged Zphyr's prick
on the pretty, round and fair buttocks of Augustine, and soaked them
with that child-fuck which, as may easily be imagined, was mightily
warmed by such treatment and soon spattered abundantly out.
       Curval, who found the general perspective very inviting, and
who spied the Duc's ass, open wide and fairly yawning for a prick - as
does the ass of every bugger at those instants his prick is up -
Curval, I say, drew up to repay him in kind for what he had received
the previous evening, and the dear Duc no sooner felt the voluptuous
joltings occasioned by this intromission, than his fuck, taking wing
at almost the same time Zphyr's departed him, splashed the lower
edges of the temple whose columns Zphyr was wetting. But Curval did
not discharge, and withdrawing his proud and mettlesome engine from
the Duc's bum, he menaced the Bishop, who was likewise frigging
himself between Giton's thighs, threatening to make him undergo the
fate the Duc had just experienced. The Bishop hurls a challenge, 'tis
accepted, battle is joined, the Bishop is embuggered and, between the
thighs of the pretty child he is caressing, goes on deliciously to
lose a draught of libertine fuck most deliciously wheedled out of him.
However, a benevolent spectator to it all, Durcet, having no one but
Hb and the duenna to attend to his needs, and although nearly dead
drunk, was by no means wasting his opportunities and was quietly
perpetrating infamies the proper time has not yet come to disclose.
But calm finally descended over the field, the warriors slumbered, and
woke again at six, the hour when Duclos' gifted tongue was to lay the
foundation for new pleasures.
       The quatrains that evening featured certain sexual changes:
that is to say, all the girls were costumed as sailors, the little
boys as tarts; the effect was ravishing, nothing quickens lust like
this voluptuous little reversal; adorable to find in a little boy what
causes him to resemble a girl, and the girl is far more interesting
when for the sake of pleasing she borrows the sex one would like her
to have. Each friend had his wife on his couch that day; they
exchanged congratulations upon that very religious arrangement, and
everyone being ready to listen, Duclos resumed her lewd stories.

       There was, at Madame Gurin's, a certain girl of about thirty,
blond, rather heavy-set, but unusually fair and healthy; her name was
Aurore, she had a charming mouth, fine teeth, and a voluptuous tongue,
but - and who would believe such a thing? - whether because of a
faulty education, or owing to a weak stomach, from that adorable mouth
there used constantly, incessantly to erupt prodigious quantities of
wind, and above all after she had eaten a heartly meal, she was
capable, for the space of an hour, of blowing a stream of belches
powerful enought to turn a windmill. But they are right who declare no
fault exists that is not a little appreciated by someone, and our fine
lass, thanks to this one, had one of the most ardent suitors: he was a
learned and grave professor of Scholasticism at the Sorbonne who,
tired of wasting his time proving the existence of God in his school,
would sometimes come to our brothel to convince himself of the
existence of his dear God's creatures. He would send prior notice of
his intended arrival, and Aurore would feed like one dying of hunger.
Curious to see that pious colloquy, I fly to the spy hole: my lovers
greet one another, I observe a few preliminary caresses all directed
upon the mouth, then most delicately our rhetor seats his companion in
a chair, seats himself opposite her and, taking her hands, deposits
his relics between them, sad old vestiges they were, in the most
deplorable state.
       "Act," he enjoins her, "act, my lovely one. Act; you know by
what means I may be drawn from this languid condition, I beg you to
adopt them with all dispatch, for I feel myself pressed mightily to
proceed."
       With one hand she fondles the doctor's flabby tool, with the
other she draws his head to hers, glues her lips to his mouth and in
no time at all she has, one after another, shot sixty great belches
down his gullet. Impossible to represent the ecstasy of this servant
of God; he was in the clouds, he inhaled, he swallowed everything that
came his way, you'd have thought the very idea of losing the least
puff of air would have distressed him, and whilst all this was going
on, his hands roamed inquiringly over my colleague's breasts and under
her petticoat, but these fingerings were no more than episodic; the
unique and capital object was that mouth overwhelming him with sighs
and digestive rumblings. His prick finally enlarged by the voluptuous
vibrations the ceremony caused to be born in him, he discharged into
my companion's hand, and ran off to deliver a lecture, protesting as
he went that never had he enjoyed himself more.
       Some time after this, a rather more extraordinary man came to
the house with a particular problem in mind, and it well deserves to
be mentioned in this catalogue of natural wonders. Gurin had, that
day, urged me to eat, had all but forced me to eat as copiously as,
not long before, I had seen Aurora dine. Gurin took care to have me
served everything she knew I liked best, and having forewarned me, as
we rose from table, of everything I should have to do for the elderly
libertine with whom she intended to match me, she had me swallow down
three grains of emetic dissolved in a glass of warm water. The old
sinner arrived, he was a brothel-hound I had seen dozens of times
before without bothering to find out what he came to do. He embraces
me, drives a dirty and disgusting tongue into my mouth, and the action
of the emetic I'd drunk is complemented by his stinking breath. He
sees my stomach's about to rise, he's in ecstasy. "Courage, dearie,"
he cries, "be brave, never fear, I don't propose to lose a drop of
it." Being foreadvised of all he expects of me, I seat him on the
couch, lay his head to rest on the edge of it; his thighs are
separated, I unbutton his breeches, drag out a slack, stunted
instrument that betrays no sign of stiffening, I shake, squeeze, pull
it, he opens his mouth: all the while frigging him, all the while
receiving the touches of his impudicious hands which stray over my
buttocks, at point-blank I launch into his mouth the imperfectly
digested dinner that vomitive has fetched up from my stomach. Our man
is beside himself, he rolls his eyes, pants, bolts down the spew, goes
to my lips to seek more of the impure ejaculation that intoxicates
him, he does not indeed miss a drop, and when it seems to him the
operation is in danger of ending, he provokes a repetition of it by
dexterously inserting his appalling tongue into my mouth, and his
prick, that prick I've scarcely been able to touch because of my
convulsive retchings, that prick doubtless warmed by nothing but such
infamies, grows purple, rises up of itself, and weeps into my fingers
the unsuspected proof of the impressions these foul activities have
made upon it.

       "Ah, by God's balls," said Curval, "that's a very delicious
passion indeed, but none the less susceptible of improvement."
       "And how?" asked Durcet in a voice broken by signs of
lubricity.
       "How?" Curval repeated, "why, by the choice of food and of
partner."
       "Partner? Oh, but of course. You'd prefer a Fanchon."
       "To be sure!"
       "And the food?" Durcet continued, while Adelaide frigged him.
       "Food?" the Prsident murmured, "why, I think I'd force her to
give me back, and in the same manner, what I'd just introduced into
her."
       "That is to say," stammered the financier, beginning to lose
all control of himself, "you'd spew into her mouth, she'd swallow and
then have to blow it back at you?"
       "Precisely."
       And each rushing into his closet, the Prsident with Fanchon,
Augustine, and Zlamir; Durcet with Desgranges, Rosette, and Invictus:
proceedings were halted for roughly thirty minutes. Then the two
lechers returned.
       "Ah," the Duc said chidingly to Curval, the first to reappear,
"you've been up to some nastiness or other?"
       "Ah, a little of this, a little of that," the Prsident
replied, "it's my life's happiness, you know. I've not much patience
with mild or tidy pleasures."
       "But I trust you were also purged of a little fuck?"
       "Enough of that nonsense," the Prsident said, "do you suppose
everyone is like you, flinging fuck this way and that every six
minutes? Why no, I leave those efforts and that unconscionable
prodigality to you and to vigorous champions like Durcet," he went on,
watching the financier stagger weakily from his closet.
       "Yes," said Durcet, "yes, it's true, there was no resisting the
girl. Desgranges is so filthy in word, deed, and body, she is so
adroit, so suitable in every way . . ."
       "Well, Duclos," the Duc said, "go on with your story, for if we
don't quiet him down, the indiscreet little fellow will tell us
everything he did, and never once consider what a dreadful breach of
good manners it is to boast of the favors one has received from a
pretty woman."
       And Duclos obediently returned to her tale.

       Since, said our chronicler, these gentlemen are so fond of that
kind of drollery, I greatly regret they were unable to restrain their
enthusiasism yet another minute, for the effects of what I have still
to relate this evening might, it seems to me, have better found their
mark. Precisely that which Monsieur le Prsident declared to be
lacking to the perfection of the passion I have just described was
entirely present in the one that follows; what a pity, I repeat, that
I was unable to get to it in time. The example of the elderly
Prsident de Saclanges affords, in every particular and word for word,
all the singularity Monsieur de Curval appeared to desire. By way of a
partner for him, Gurin had chosen the dean of our chapter: a tall,
sturdy lass of about thirty-six, a great and chronic drunk, loutish,
foul-mouthed, rather a fishmonger's wife, although by no means
unattractive; the good Prsident arrives, they are served supper, both
get blind drunk, both become unreasonable, one vomits in the other's
mouth, the one swallows the stuff, then the other vomits into the
mouth of the first, now he swallows, and so forth and so on, and they
finally collapse into the supper's debris, that is to say, into the
filth they've just splashed all over the floor. And then I am sent
into the fray, for my co-worker has not an ounce of strength left,
indeed she has lost consciousness. But this, however, is the crucial
moment from the libertine's point of view: I find him prone, his prick
straight and hard as a crowbar; I seize his instrument, the Prsident
stammers, swears, draws me to him, sucks my mouth, and discharges like
a bull, the while twisting and turning and continuing to wallow in his
ordure.
       The same girl, somewhat later, participated in a drama which
was surely not much less filthy; a monk of some consequence, who paid
her very liberally, threw himself astride her belly after having
spread and immobilized my companion's thighs by tying them to heavy
articles of furniture. Several kinds of food were brought in and
served the monk, who had the dainties placed on the girl's naked
belly. The merry fellow then picks up the morsels he is to eat, and
dips them one by one in his Dulcinea's open cunt, and only consumes
them after they have been completely impregnated with the spices the
vagina secretes.

       "Ha!" cried the Bishop, "an entirely novel manner of dining."
       "And one which wouldn't suit you, eh, my Lord?" said Duclos.
       "By God's belly, no!" replied the man of the Church, "I'm not
that fond of the cunt."

       Very well, our storyteller replied, lend an ear to the item
with which I am going to close this evening's narrations, I am
persuaded it will amuse you more.
       I had been with Madame Gurin for eight years - had just
reached the age of seventeen - and during this period not a day had
passed without my seeing a certain farmer-general arrive at the house
every morning and be received with the warmest welcome. He was thought
very highly of by the management; a man of roughly sixty, rotund,
short, he resembled Monsieur Durcet in a good many points. Like
Monsieur, he had an air of freshness and youth, and was also plump; he
required a different girl every day, and those of the house were never
used save in emergencies or when someone contracted abroad failed to
meet her appointment. Monsieur Dupont, so was our financier called,
was just as discriminating in his choice of girls as he was fastidious
in his tastes, he simply would not have a whore to attend to his needs
except in the rare and extreme cases I mentioned; he had to have, on
the contrary, working women, shopgirls, especially milliners or
seamstresses. Their age and coloring also had to meet specification:
they had to be between fifteen and eighteen, neither more or less,
and, most important of all, they needed to have a sweetly moldered
ass, an ass so absolutely clean that the least blemish, a mere grain
of matter clinging at the hole was sufficient grounds for rejection.
When they were maids, he paid twice as much.
       They had made plans for, and were that day actually expecting
the arrival of, a young lacemaker of sixteen whose ass was generally
acclaimed by connoisseurs as a true model of what an ass should be;
Monsieur Dupont did not know the treasure that was to be offered him,
and as it turned out the young lady had word sent that on this
particular morning she was unable to leave her parents' house and that
matters would have to proceed without her. Gurin, knowing Dupont had
never set eyes on me, ordered me to dress in a shopgirl's costume at
once, to go out, take a cab at the end of the street, and alight again
at the brothel, all this fifteen minutes after Dupont entered the
house; I was to play my role with care and pass myself for a
milliner's apprentice. But the most important consideration of all was
the anise water: I was to fill my stomach at once with half a quart of
it, and directly afterward I was to drink the large glass of balsamic
liqueur she gave me; you shall shortly learn for what its effect was
intended. Everything went forward very smoothly; fortunately, we had
been given several hours' notice, and in this time were able to make
thorough preparations. I arrived at the house with a very silly air, I
was presented to the financier who directly scrutinized me very
closely, but as I was keeping a sharp eye on my conduct, he could
discover nothing about my person which might contradict the story that
had been invented for him.
       "Is she a maid?" Dupont asks.
       "Not in that place," says Gurin, pointing to my belly, "but I
will answer for the other side."
       And it was a most impudent lie she told. Little does it matter;
our man believed her, and that alone was necessary.
       "Lift your skirts, hurry it up," says Dupont.
       And Gurin raises my skirts from behind, drawing me toward her
as she does so and thus entirely exposing the temple at which the
libertine performed his worship. He stares, for a moment he fingers my
buttocks, he spreads them with both hands, and evidently satisfied, he
announces that the ass is suitable for his purposes. Next, he asks me
several questions relating to my age, my trade, and content with my
feigned innocence and the look of having been born yesterday that I
affect, he has me accompany him to his apartment, for there was one
reserved exclusively for him at Gurin's: he did not like being
observed while at work, he was certain not to be in this place. Both
of us having entered, he carefully shuts and secures the door,
considers me for a moment, then in a rather brutal fashion - brutality
characterized him throughout the scene - he inquired me whether it
were indeed true that I had never been fucked in the ass. As my role
called for total ignorance of the meaning of such an expression, I had
him repeat it, declared I still understood nothing, and when by means
of the most unambigious gestures he conveyed what he wished to say, I
replied, with a stimulated look fo fright and modesty, that I should
be a very unhappy girl indeed if ever I had lent myself to such
infamies. Whereupon he told me to remove my skirts, but only my
skirts, and once I had obeyed him, leaving my blouse down to hide my
front, he raised it above my buttocks to the height of my bodice; but
while he was undressing me my neckerchief slipped down, revealing my
breasts. He became incensed.
       "Devil take those damned tits of yours," he cried; "who asked
you for tits? That's what I can't bear about these creatures, every
single impudent one of them is wild to show you her miserable bubs."
       Hastening to cover them over, I approached him to beg his
pardon, but observing that I was going to exhibit my cunt thanks to
the posture I was about to assume, he lost his temper a second time:
       "But, sweet Jesus! Can't you stay put?" he demanded, seizing my
haunches and turning me so that there was no danger he would catch a
glimpse of anything but my ass, "stay that way, fuck your eyes, I
don't care any more of your cunt than I do for your chest, your ass is
all you need with me."
       So saying, he stood up and guided me to the edge of the bed
upon which he installed me in such wise the upper half of my body
rested on the bed, then, seating himself on a very low stool, he found
himself situated between my wide-flung legs and his head on a level
with my ass. He peers at me for another instant, then, deciding I am
not yet adjusted as I ought to be, up he gets, fetches a cushion, fits
it under my belly, thus arching my ass more sharply; he sits down
again, examines, and goes about everything with the sangfroid and
confidence of the seasoned and mature libertine. A moment passes, then
he grasps my two buttocks, spreads them, poses his open mouth upon the
hole, fastens his lips hermetically to it, and immediately, pursuant
to the signal he gives me and in obedience to the considerable
pressure that has built up within me, I unleash a booming fart,
possibly the most explosive one he has received in all his life; it
shoots down his gullet and he backs away, furious.
       "What the devil!" he cries, "so you are so bold as to fart into
my mouth, are you?"
       And he straightway claps his mouth to my asshole again.
       "Yes, Monsieur," I say as I release a second stifler, "that's
how I deal with gentlemen who kiss my ass."
       "Very well then! fart, if you must, you little rascal, since
you can't help it, fart, I say, fart as hard as you like and as often
as you can."
       From this moment onward I cast off all restraint, nothing can
express the urgency of my desire to give vent to the boisterous winds
produced by the potion I had drunk earlier; our man is thrilled by
them, he receives some in his mouth, the others in his nostrils. After
fifteen minutes of this exercise, he lies down upon the couch, draws
me to him, his nose still wedged between my buttocks, orders me to
frig him and meanwhile to continue a ceremony which gives rise in him
to such exquisite pleasures. I fart, I frig, I manipulate a slack
little prick neither much longer nor much thicker than my finger, but
by dint of buffets, jerks, and farts the instrument finally stiffens.
The augmentation of our gentleman's pleasure, the critical instant's
approach is announced by a new iniquity: it is now his tongue that
provokes my farts, 'tis his tongue that, like a flail, darts deep into
my anus in order to stir up the winds, 'tis against his tongue he
wants me to blow those zephyrs, he becomes unreasonable, he is no
longer in possession of his wits, 'tis clear, and his wretched little
engine sadly sprinkles seven or eight drops of watery, brownish sperm
upon my fingers; and now he is restored to his senses. But as his
native brutality fomented his distraction, so now it replaces it at
once, and he barely gives me enough time to readjust myself. He
scolds, he mutters and swears, in one word he offers me the abhorrent
image of vice that has slaked its thirst, and I am made the butt of
that unthinking indelicacy which, once its glitter has paled, seeks to
find revenge in scorn for the worshiped object that latterly
captivated the senses.

       "Now that's a man I prefer to all the others," said the Bishop.
"And do you know if he had his little sixteen-year-old apprentice the
next day?"
       "Yes, Monseigneur, he did indeed, and the day after that a maid
of fifteen far prettier yet. As few men used to pay as much, few were
better served."
       This passion having stimulated heads so well acquainted with
that species of disorder, and having put them in mind of a taste they
all relished. Messieurs simply could not bear waiting any longer to
make use of it. Each of them plucked what windy fruits there were to
be had, neglecting no likely sources, then supper arrived, with their
gourmandizing pleasures they blended nearly all the infamies they had
just heard described, the Duc got Fanchon tipsy and had the befuddled
old thing vomit into his mouth, Durcet had the whole harem fart, and
in the course of the evening swallowed at least threescore mouthfuls
of unwholesome air. As for Curval, in whose brain all kinds of
extravagances danced gaily, he declared he was moved to perform some
solitary orgies and went off to the remote boudoir, accompanied by
Fanchon, Marie, Desgranges, and thirty bottles of Champagne wine.
Later on, all four had to be carried back into society, for they were
discovered floating in a very tide of their own ordures, and the
Prsident was found asleep, his mouth fastened to that of Desgranges,
who was still wearily retching into it. The three other friends
aquitted themselves no less brilliantly, performing feats in like kind
or somewhat different; they too had spent their orgy period drinking,
they had got the little girls to fart, I truly haven't space to tell
you all they did, and had it not been for Duclos, who coolly kept her
wits about her, who when it was abandoned by the others assumed the
government of the revels, preserved order, and put the merrymakers to
bed, I repeat that had it not been for Duclos, it is very probable
indeed that rosy-fingered Dawn, opening the gates of Apollo's palace,
would have found them lying still plunged in their excrements, rather
more after the example of swine than like heroes.
       Needful only of rest, each lay by himself that night, and
cradled in Morpheus' arms, recovered a little strength for the
strenuous new day ahead.
