Jacky S - Suburban Souls, Book I

Si jamais, par les yeux d'une femme sans coeur,

Tu peux m'entrer au ventre et m'empoisonner l'âme,

Ainsi que d'une plaie on arrache une lame,

Plutôt que comme un lâche on me voie en souffrir,

Je t'en arracherai, quand j'en devrais mourir.

I have already said that my health had been bad, and that I had great difficulty in getting over my sharp attack of rheumatism of the spring. The treatment at Lamalou had pulled me down exceedingly and, after the course of baths of boiling water, I returned to Paris in a state of mental and bodily fatigue.

That is why I had fallen an easy prey to Lilian, and I had not struggled against the fearful longing I felt for her; nor had I troubled to reason with myself. My brain was dulled. In September, I had enjoyed long bicycle rides in the country, and I now began to experience the benefit of the waters I had taken. I was light and gay, without a pain, and my sweet invalid companion also had a brief respite, in this gloomy fag-end of November and beginning of December.

I carried on now a pretty intrigue with a new flame, and the lady in question was such a curious person that I think she deserves to be lightly sketched in this, my little book which, started in summer sylvan retirement as a rapid review of a love-affair, is fast growing into a stout work of salacious confessions.

THE STORY OF A SLAVE.

I dined at the house of a French friend, a married man. I was introduced to a lady whom I had never seen in that house before. She was rather good-looking, but a trifle too stout, of Oriental style, like a fine, fat Jewess. She was about thirty, and had two children. Her husband was a manufacturer, and lived in the north of France. She was alone in Paris for a few days, I forget now for what reason. Louise, as I shall call her, seemed to like to laugh and joke with me, and sat down to the piano, and played for me and to me. She was a splendid performer and was very well educated. The little party broke up early, and as Madame Louise made out that she was not at her ease in Paris alone at night, I offered to be her cavalier and take her home to her hotel. I was accepted, and we left together. We were soon friends, and I prevailed upon her to walk with me instead of riding, and by dint of persuasion, got her to go to a café with me.

She talked of her home in the country and of the difficulty of getting good servants. I told her jokingly to whip them to make them obedient and that many women, whether domestics or ladies, liked to be chastised. It was a lucky hit of mine, as she would not let the subject of flagellation drop, and after a little fencing, I elicited from her that she dreamt daily and nightly of the joy of being a slave to a man she would love. Louise would never have gone so far if she did not want me to make love to her, and at last she promised to meet me in Paris the next afternoon.

Then she really became my chattel, a most docile toy, and she came to Paris every month or so, and scarcely ever failed to meet me. I hear from her now occasionally, and our adventures together would make a most entertaining volume. But I have only introduced her here to give the translation of some of her letters, which will enable the reader to guess what Louise wanted, and which I know well how to manage. I need only add that she was perfectly disinterested, and it may be guessed that this peculiar passion cannot exist among professional beauties.

Master,

The day after I became your slave I wrote you a letter of twelve pages, telling you of my dreams of mad torture, which I made as I desired you to be a thousand times more cruel than you were with me.

Then I reflected, and tried to forget you, and never more return to this kind of voluptuousness. I burnt the letter, and I hoped that you would never write to me; that I might be strong.

But I cannot. I return to you. Do with my body as you will, but my dream is that you should only see in me a slave and naught else; that is to say a creature whom you will always cause to suffer cruelly.

I see you now, as in a vision; your eyes with the same expression they had in the cab, forcing me to look at you; telling me so, roughly.

And then, when I come to Paris, you must not receive me in such a rich apartment-for a slave, the vilest place is too good-but at an ordinary hotel. Then you will lunch-I could get to you about eleven o'clock-and I would look on without eating, happy to accept on my knees what you would please to throw me.

You could exact anything from me, forcing me to reply at each command: “Yes, master!”

I must never be allowed to answer in any other manner, and if I forget myself, you will box my ears with great force. You will force me to caress you with my arms bound behind my back, and if I lick you awkwardly, you will flog me on any part of my body; and never, never, will you allow me to show any other expression on my features but that of the most absolute tenderness and submission.

Afterwards, you will cause me to approach you, and look, by violently stretching open the lips of my private parts, if I desire you. Should I be wet, you will make me cross my legs, and brutally you will force your fist between my thighs. You will pull my hairs, force me to show you the sign of my sex, and if I am pouring with liquid lust, you will cut me with a riding whip. You will make me wash myself again with the water containing the lump of ice, and you will dip a towel in the frozen liquid and put it on my loins, so as to annihilate my desire.

Should you wish to ejaculate in my mouth, when you are in the bed, you will put me on my knees over you, my back towards you. Thus you will have the pleasure of pinching me, of biting me, or of lashing me, while I shall have your divine instrument in my mouth.

And if I am exhausted by unslaked lust, you will only give way to me when I have begged and prayed for coition, and you will possess me with my arms bound, tortured by a cruel belt that will compress my waist.

You will force your fingers into my slit, which will be thirsting to be filled up by you, and you will command me to fix my eyes upon yours, and with your other hand, you will pinch me, prick me, and scratch me with a needle, for the pleasure of seeing me suffer. I would that you were very, very, cruel. Perhaps I shall be free one day next week. I will get to Paris in the morning and go back at six o'clock.

I await your orders, master, and on my knees, I kiss your feet.

Your submissive and devoted slave,

LOUISE.

To-day I desire you madly, and your cruel eyes. Oh! to look at them on my knees, to see them plunged into mine, to feel your hands enter pitilessly into my flesh, hurting and bruising me; brutally taking hold of my leg, dragging down my stockings, and watching your joy increasing, as the needle's point sinks into my quivering body. At each painful stab, I would say: “Thank you, master!”

Oh! To be knocked about, pinched, humiliated, and degraded; to see you smile cruelly at my sufferings and kiss you all over, while I should be dying with discomfort in the instruments of torture you showed me; to suffer for you, master-oh! how I desire you!

I can no longer support the thoughts of you! If you were here I would prostrate myself at your feet and pray you to make me enjoy.

Oh! I will be continent, I promise you; I will do nothing alone. I will wait. I have no will but yours. You forbid masturbation; I will obey. It does me good to write you my insensate longings.

Make me suffer, even from afar. Send me something that I can wear next my skin that will hurt me.

Oh! For my mouth on your naked body, to kiss your feet, and let my tongue touch everywhere! I am mad with lust. My throat is dry, my heart beats, and I am all wet. How I long for you! Pardon me, do, my master; I will be so submissive, so tender with you, so obedient to make you forget all my shortcomings. Write to me soon, I supplicate you.