Jacky S - Suburban Souls, Book II

FATHER.-“Only a little portion of what I want to see,” handling her calves and putting his hand up her drawers, “you have sweetly proportioned legs and beautifully firm flesh, my dear; up higher with your skirts, please.”

DAUGHTER, scarlet with shame.-“Oh! Oh! Papa! How can you; there only a little higher, that's all I can do: it's so indelicate,” drawing her skirts half-way up her thighs.

FATHER, in a rage.-“Do as I tell you, Miss, do you think I can't examine my own child without her pretending to tell me it's improper! I will look you all over if I choose to do so, and whip you soundly into the bargain, Miss Prude!”

DAUGHTER, with tears of shame running down her crimson face.-“Oh! Papa, Papa, pity me, I never showed so much to anyone before!” lifting her clothes, so as now to show all her drawers, well up to her waist, but she stands with her legs so close that nothing is visible.

FATHER.-“That's how you dress, is it? It's time I looked after your underclothing a little, your chemise is too long,” putting his hand between her legs and pulling out the tail of her undermost garment, “What a pretty little pussy you have, my dear little Miss Bashful, I suppose you won't let your husband even look at or touch that; why how beautifully it's covered with this soft hair!” caressing and tickling the pouting lips with his fingers; “And you're only just over sixteen, you must have been rubbing your belly against something hairy.”

DAUGHTER, in still greater confusion, turns away from him to hide her mortification, sobbing hysterically.-“Oh! Oh! Papa, Papa. Have mercy, how can you talk so?”

FATHER, taking out his knife.-“Stand still, Miss Prude, I'm going to make this chemise the proper length, so as to be a pattern of what you ought to wear.” Then cuts a great piece off back and front so as to leave her quite exposed where the drawers are a little open, as he purposely leaves them. “You have a fine plump bottom, is it tender? Do you feel that?” giving her a loud slap. “Oh! you can feel, can you; does it hurt you much?” as she starts with the sudden smart.

DAUGHTER.-“Oh! Oh! Papa! Pray don't, you humiliate me so!” bursting into fresh hysterical tones.

FATHER.-“Kneel down, and beg my pardon and own that all I do is proper; there, this place will do very well.”

DAUGHTER.-“But that's all mud, I can't kneel there!” (Sobbing.)

FATHER.-“Can't again; will you never do as you're told? Down on your knees this instant, or I will kill you.”

Daughter, in trembling confusion, kneels in the mud crying and hiding her face in her hands.

FATHER.-“Now, get up, your drawers are only a little soiled,” laughing at the great patch of mud on her knees; “take my knife and cut me some of those nice long thin twigs, and ask me to correct you with them.”

She complies, being too frightened and confused not to obey; the twigs are handed to her father, who ties them up into a nice little switch; then orders her to kneel on the ground with her bottom towards him; makes her, with her own hands, hold her drawers well open behind for him to inspect her posterior beauties, then makes her pin them back so as they will not close over the exposed rump.

FATHER.-“Now, my dear, you would like me to correct you, would you not, Miss Bashful?”

DAUGHTER.-“Oh! Oh! No. No. Box my ears, anything but that. I've done nothing!”

FATHER.-“You must be made to see your own conduct in the right light: ask me to whip you properly,” switching her bottom smartly, and making long red marks at each stroke. “Tell me you wish it or I'd tickle you more and more with this.”

DAUGHTER, screaming with pain.-“Oh! Oh! Ah! Papa! I can't bear it, indeed I can't. Oh! Oh! Yes, correct me properly, dear Papa. Oh! Oh! Have mercy,” as he cuts harder and harder, drawing little drops of blood from the tender flesh.

FATHER.-“That's right, my dear, you are just beginning to take it in a proper spirit. Oh yes! you can bear it, shriek out, it will do you good,” switching away vigorously, and enjoying the wriggling of her rosy-colored bottom, as each stroke tells its tale: “Confound it! these twigs are not strong enough, they are all breaking to pieces; get up and cut me some better ones, mind you select them well; or I will punish you more and more for it.”

The poor girl is almost ready to faint, her bottom smeared with blood from the broken weals. She wants to let down her clothes, but he makes her crawl just as she is to the bushes and cut another birch, enjoying every movement; then when she presents the twigs to him, he makes her kiss them, and tell him, “she hopes he will flog her well for his pleasure and her own good.”

FATHER.-“That's right, my dear, I must cut that prudishness out of you; now open your legs well as you kneel, a little more dear,” Switching her gently at first: “It hurts me as much as it does you, poor dear,” cutting harder and raising more weals on her devoted bum.

DAUGHTER.-“Oh! Oh! Papa. Have, have mercy: you're hurting me so! Oh! Oh! I shall die!” as he gives another harder switch, then, “Ah-r-r-r-r-re,” as he cuts under between her legs.

FATHER.-“Does that hurt you so much, dear? I think you had better drop you drawers quite down. I must hurt you a little more, for your good; that's right, it will do you good,” as she screams frantically for “Mercy, Mercy! Oh! Spare me now, Papa.”

DAUGHTER, sobbing and crying in most humiliated distress.-“Oh, Papa! Oh, Papa! I've done everything; you do hurt so, you are so cruel! Ah-r-r-r-re!” as he gives a sharp undercut on her pussy.

FATHER.-“That's right; scream loudly; I couldn't help touching up your poor little pussy,” cutting again and again, in the same place, and all over her poor naked bottom, till it is quite covered with weals and blood-stained all over.

The poor daughter writhes and wriggles with the pain, her sobs and cries get weaker, till at last she fairly faints.

The sight of her inanimate form seems to bring him back to his natural feeling, for he caresses and kisses her, calling her “his darling victim of a daughter, poor thing, poor thing,” etc., and as soon as she revives a little, conducts her from the scene.

The Pleasures of Cruelty.

Constantinople (London), 1896, 8 vols.

Appendix B

THE DOUBLE LIFE.

(My additions to the preface.)

…That I was an incestuous father, I admit, but I shall go to my grave happy in the knowledge that I made my daughter's life a happy one. Her last words of love were for her father. She died in my arms and when I lay down my pen in a few moments as the sun sets, I'll take my hat and stick, and slowly climb the hill that leads to the little shady churchyard where Innocent sleeps her last sweet childlike sleep.

I am very old and racked with pains of gout, but I'll rest myself upon a neighboring tomb and gaze at her grave until the light falls, and as I read and read her name cut in the stone, I feel once more as I do at each daily pilgrimage that our incest is forgiven because our great and veracious love had nothing base about it.

When I can no longer climb up to the resting place of my child, my own daughter, my flesh and blood that was sweetheart, wife, concubine, and devoted whore to me, her father, I shall be ready to stand before my Maker who will pardon me in his infinite clemency. And you must fain forgive me, reader, for she forgave me long ago and felt no remorse or shame.

May I live to finish this book and join my girl for all eternity. Amen.

CUTHBERT COCKERTON,

Attorney-at-law.

Brighthelmston, July 1798.

Appendix C

SPRAGUE v. LIHME.

London, 1899.

(Divorce case.)

Mr. Justice Barnes, in directing the jury, said that the case was a difficult one for them to determine, because of the relations which for many years had existed between the parties. It was for the petitioner to satisfy them that the case had been made out.