Jacky S - Suburban Souls, Book I

When dinner was over, her stepfather, accompanied by Lilian, saw me to the station by a roundabout road, so as to walk the dogs a little, and we spoke of her business as a bonnet-builder.

“I suppose,” I said, “when you make out the bills, you add a few francs here and there when the customer is one of the silly sort?”

“Never,” she answered, “I wouldn't cheat one of my own weak sex. Robbing men, I understand, but not women.”

I never forgot this unguarded statement of hers.

Our conversation now turned upon marriage, and she once more said that she could not think of leaving her Papa, and she nestled closely up to my host. I answered that I quite understood that and she was quite right to stop by his side, while he would be a fool to let her go. I added that he spoilt her, but a husband would exercise authority over her. I, for instance, believed in corporal punishment. Young women needed the whip, and if I had a giddy damsel to look after, daughter or wife, I should always have a small riding whip handy and use it unsparingly. He agreed with me and I could see that he enjoyed my risky talk amazingly. His face grew serious, and then he laughed. A voluptuous feeling had crept over him, I am sure, by the peculiar look in his eyes and the general dullness of his physiognomy. Real sensual desire is a serious thing. Man is always serious and sulky-looking when his lechery is aroused, which is a sign of his dormant animality. Lilian laughed, with many a sly look at me. She knew what I meant. On nearing the station, she lagged behind, and signed to me that she had rectified her blunder, and got the end of the string above the waistband in front of her dress. In the dark, I was able to approach her and pull it. I got a low, “Ah! it hurts!” and then a squeeze of her hand, a hasty kiss, and a sigh of pleasure in return. I was off, and the mother and father thought I left on the fifth, but I had arranged to devote that afternoon to Lilian and depart the next day.

The Horn Boo k was now ready and I promised Mr. Arvel I would send it to him at once, as he was always pleased to read a smutty novelty. I dispatched it to him a day or two afterwards. He said he would be careful to keep it out of Lilian's way and would read it at his office. This remark struck me as quite unnecessary on his part and during my little journey back to Paris I vaguely dreamt of Arvel and Adèle's daughter, reading The Yellow Room and The Horn Book together. I began to think that I could understand his talk in general much better if I believed the contrary of all he said, above all when he brought up Lilian's name.

I told her that Papa was going to have an obscene work from me, and that she should also read it on the sly when I returned to Paris. I told her I wanted him to have this naughty book so that he might be excited and perhaps violate her when I was away. In August, she would be alone at home with her Granny, as Pa and Ma were going to Germany for a short time.

With many cordial wishes for renewed good health by my baths at Lamalou, and a request that my first visit on my return should be for the Villa Lilian, I got into the train and shut my eyes to think of the delights in store for me before my departure.

July 2, 1898.

On my way to the rue de Leipzig, where I was to meet Lilian, I bought a light bamboo switch or riding-stick, preferring this to walking through the streets with a whip.

When she arrived, as she did punctually, and coquettishly dressed, showing that she had taken great trouble with her toilette, her first words were:

“Where is your whip?”

I showed her my switch:

“This is for you, Lilian, and my dogs afterwards.”

She had in her hand The Yellow Room, which she had understood I wanted back at once. I told her she could keep it as long as she liked and not hurry through it. She had been reading it in the train. She said she liked it. It had made her “naughty,” and she had been obliged to finish herself with her finger. I replied that I thought she had told me she never did that.

“I do not as a rule, but now and again I can't help myself.”

I warned her to beware and not give way to the habit. When I went on to inform her that habitual masturbation deprives the sexual organs of women of their tone and elasticity, causing the secret slit to gape, and the inner lips to become elongated, she thanked me for the advice and told me she would resist the temptation, so as not to wither that pretty part of her body.

“I like my pussy,” she said, “I like to look at the hair on it. I love to play with my hairs.”

I informed her that she had a very pretty one and it would be a pity to spoil it. The two large outer lips should close themselves naturally, but if Lilian gives way to onanism they will do so no longer.

I asked her to show me the paragraph which had brought about this crisis. She did so:

“He inserted his enormous affair in her burning c…, etc.”

It was not exactly that sentence alone which so unduly excited her, but what lead up to this termination. She did not understand certain words, but guessed them from the context. She thought that the extreme and bloodthirsty, long-drawn-out cruelty, described in the volume, was impossible, but thoroughly appreciated the idea of man's domination over a woman, and to bend her to his lewd will, a little brutality appealed to her imagination. She wanted more books later on, but not tales of Lesbianism. Anything, simple lust or cruelty, as long as it took place between men and women. She thought that everything and anything was possible and agreeable, if a male and a female were fond of each other. This was far from bad philosophy, springing naturally from a virgin of twenty-two. How changed she was now with me!

During our conversation, I had made her sit by my side on the sofa, with her clothes well up, as I wanted to see and feel her legs, calves, and knees. I made her open and close her thighs, and cross and recross her legs, as I chose to command.

I kissed her passionately. My lips wandered all over her face. I kissed her eyes, and licked and gently nibbled her ears. This last caress pleased her very much.

I made her stand up in front of me, and by threats of ill-usage and pinching the fat part of her arms, I got her, after a little resistance, to let me put my hands up her clothes, lift her chemise out of her drawers, and put my hand between her thighs, entirely grasping her centre of love. In this manner, my hand still gripping her plump, hairy lips, I walked her round the room, in spite of her blushes and protestations. It was an agreeable sensation for both of us. I had great enjoyment in feeling the movement of her soft thighs as she walked, my hand clasping her furry retreat. I halted in front of the looking-glass of the wardrobe, and forced her to look at the strange group we thus formed. She hid her head on my shoulder and I could feel she was now quite wet, heated, and ready for anything.

I asked her if she could take off her drawers without undressing. She replied in the affirmative.

“An English girl could not, but my drawers are fastened to my stays.”

I reclined on the sofa and told her to take them off slowly, without sitting down. She did so with docility, and I enjoyed the sight of seeing her get her legs out of her beribboned undergarments. I called her to me, and stood her up again in front of me and close to me, as I sat on the chaise-longue, while my hands, up her clothes, now for the first time roved without hindrance over her belly, bottom, thighs, and nature's orifice. It was a delicious moment for me. I put the left index as far as possible up her crisp fundament, gradually forcing it up with a corkscrew motion, as I felt her pleasure in front increasing, for I was masturbating her scientifically the while, with the middle finger of the left hand. I had great difficulty in piercing her anus, but to my astonishment, she did not complain of pain. She afterwards told me that she liked the feeling of my finger in the posterior aperture. The crisis came quickly for her and she could no longer stand upright, but soon sank gradually to her knees, all in a heap, sighing with satisfied lust, her head pillowed on my breast. I kissed her sweet neck and finished her as quickly as my wrist would let me, until she tore herself from my grasp.