Pierre Louys - The She-Devils

“But…”

“And besides, I know that I'm a whore, by the cunt, the ass, and the mouth! And besides, I don't give a damn! And besides…”

There was not the slightest doubt in my mind that the words that Teresa caught on the end of her tongue were, “And besides, as far as I'm concerned, I shit on you!” There was no question about it. Therefore, the only thing that her silence could mean was that she didn't want me to put her out. I took the offensive again.

“What's this passion you four have for bring cornholed? Was it you who trained those girls to act like that? Did you give them the taste for that sort of thing?”

“What about me? Who gave it to me? Why didn't you ask that? You forget that I didn't invent women with two holes in their bodies. And I didn't give them the power to make love through both, either. You forget that before I was a mother, my child, I was a daughter.”

She laughed. She was standing all this time, one hand on her hip, and with her robe and the flower in her dark hair she looked like a woman playing Carmen on the stage.

“Whose daughter?” I asked, seated near her. No reply. She smiled and looked at me for a few moments, chewing a lock of her hair that had drifted down out of place. I couldn't tell what she was thinking about, but young men are all too disposed to think that every woman that comes along wants to sleep with them. Even when the woman happens to knock on their door at midnight, however, their plans are not always so simple. I repeated, “Daughter of whom?”

“Prick! If I say daughter of a whore will you be happy?”

“Yes.” I thought that that might make her talk.

However she continued to stare at me fixedly with the same slightly troubled smile. Then she decided.

“I was born into a family of Italian acrobats in which there were already four women: my mother and three younger sisters.

“Don't worry. They were all partially whores and very pretty. Even so, they were more lesbian than anything else. I never saw four little bitches go avid to lick each other's asses than my mother and my three aunts. Whenever they had an hour free they were always lying around naked giving it to each other, this one eating another's pussy, that one drinking it up like a polecat, the other letting it gush out so strongly that they always had a swamp in their sheets somewhere.

“As for men… I suppose you want to know why they didn't fuck? I never saw either my mother or her sisters fucking and I still don't know how I came into the world. They weren't whores like I am, but still there would be a man around from time to time. No fucking, though. Since the circus was their living, they could scarcely afford to become pregnant. The man would have, therefore, plenty to choose from for cornholing, and all asses that took pricks like ducks to water. But the front was strictly forbidden. They called that the women's side.

“Would you believe that by the time I was seven I never saw a woman make love other than by the rear and that I didn't even know what fucking was? Still I saw some real scenes! Mother and her sisters were all acrobats and double-jointed to boot, and each one of them could suck her own pussy if she wanted. But what they did most often was to bend themselves double and suck the balls of a man who was cornholing them. That was always worth a good fifty francs.”

With this she halted her story, though she had hardly begun it, took off her dressing gown and threw it on the bed. “I'm hot,” she said.

This time she wasn't wearing any slip and, so suddenly nude, she sat down defiantly on the end of the bed.

“You disgust me,” I said turning my eyes away. “Ha! Ha! Ha! But look! You're getting an erection like a horse!”

“Very clever. When you sit down completely nude on my bed, does that prove I like you?”

“There are some,” she said gayly, “who say, 'I love you' with a limp prick. But you, you hate me with a hard-on. That's much better for a woman.”

I reddened. Teresa's nudity was, in fact, irresistible to me, but I was ashamed that my physical state had made the speech that I had been mentally preparing for the last ten minutes at most impossible and at least ridiculous. And my annoyance was such that if she had decided to mock me an instant longer, I would have been unable to retain what I had to say.

But instead of making fun of my desire, she decided to exasperate it.

She locked her hands behind her head, leaving bare two black armpits, as much to show me that she wasn't going to attack me as to display her breasts to best advantage.

Then, with eyes half shut and in a low, sultry voice, she had an inspiration: she decided to mock herself-

“My knockers aren't any good. My nipples don't harden half as well as your cock,” she said.

“You don't know what you're saying! They're one of your best features.”

Seeing that I was already contradicting myself, she no longer needed to bother flattering herself, and she insisted, knowing well enough the attractiveness of her breasts to be sure that she was fighting on safe ground.

“They disgust you the least of anything about me then?” She was smiling Broadly. “Their odd shape, no doubt. Look how long and large they are. Neither apple nor pear, eh? And the ends! Do you think I could dye my hair blonde some time, and just leave these little black rosettes? These little licorice drops? These little negro-boy pick heads? Ha! Ha! Ha! Do you know why my knockers don't look like anyone else's? Because I had three kids. Even so, though, they're big and full and they're full because I didn't let the kids suck them. They got their milk from my ass…”

“Whore! Don't re — “

“Yes,” she said, interrupting me volubly, “they're whore's teats all right. And you've been sitting in front of them for fifteen minutes wanting to shoot your wad and you can't! You haven't gotten your prick between them yet, but you've been thinking about it. And the last time you came, when you had your prick in my behind, you were rubbing them with both hands, right? Did you feel them? Answer! Did you feel my whore's teats expanding?”

“Shut up! Get out of here! I don't want to see you any more! I can't forget what you did after that!”

I put my hand over my eyes so I couldn't see her any more and turned away from her on the bed. She leaped on me.

I expected it? No, it was exactly what I wasn't expecting. However, I never fooled myself either as to her desire or as to her vigor, and in a second I experienced both.

The surprise with which her leap caught me, my disadvantageous position, and above all the fear that I might hurt her all combined to put me out of the fight so quickly that I scarcely had time to discover what had happened.

“See how easy it is to violate a man?” smiled Teresa. “Whore!”

“Thanks.”

The “thanks” was another inspiration. The woman that I had seen (but I don't want to repeat here what I had so much trouble describing in the previous chapter)… This woman had the effrontery to sigh her “thanks” in a tone that also said, “You're not what I'd exactly cal a gallant gentleman.” And I was naive enough to blush, to cut short the injuries I was ready to hurl at her without realizing that she had suddenly reversed our roles.

In addition, after the sad little word that accused the slur made on her honor, Teresa continued in the same audacious voice. She seemed nervous, but she was smiling.

“You don't have to complain any more. You can fuck me. You can deflower me. You know what you call the cunt of a whore who is always cornholed and who hasn't had a prick from the front in three months? No? You call it a cherry, and you're in it now. Now don't tell me that I never fuck. Just remember that the night I raped you I did it with my pussy. Are you happy?”