Pierre Louys - The She-Devils

She lie down on the bed in the middle. “Your tongue, Lili,” she cried. “Lick my hole. Make it good and wet. Spread the hair out. Now, take his prick, my child! Stick it into me yourself. And tell me what you call a little girl who would help cornhole her mother. Tell me.”

Lili found two answers. She whispered the first to me in a breath:

“It's the daughter of a whore.'“

Then out loud to Teresa:

“It's easy to see that she would he a little girl that was made from an asshole!”

The first answer amused me so much that I forgot my role and missed my entrance despite the care with which Lili had prepared it.

I don't think Teresa heard either the first or the second. And since she had her back turned, she didn't see the smile that darted across my face. But she spoke in such a way that my desire to laugh soon vanished. She spewed and vomited her words. She became really terrible. In front of a little girl — “a bit of a whore” undoubtedly, but with a sense of humor and a sense of propriety — in front of a child too young to understand the delirium of the senses, it seemed to me that this flood of obscenities was utterly senseless. But Teresa wallowed in it. She was trying to surpass even what she had said in front of Charlotte, as if the fraility of the childhood of her youngest daughter excited her even more.

Lili, attentive, not in the least intimidated, but silent nevertheless, then proceeded to her last task.

Her tiny hand was small enough to fit completely into the none too large sex of Teresa. Once inside, the adroit member opened it little by little, groped, seemed to flutter, and seized firmly across the membrane the penis that could not escape it.

I do not hesitate, at this point, to admit that until that hour I had never accepted the gratifications of a woman's hand. It seems to me ridiculous and undesirable, but the exercise that Lili performed was of the utmost finesse in conception and execution. I was speechless in admiration.

I wished that Teresa had been as silent as I! But she never once ceased crying, “Ah! What a whore this child! What a drawer of come! Ah! Turn around, my child, so I can fondle your ass, my little bitch!” and a hundred other things of like nature. It dazed me so that I was frowning like a-preacher. When an acrobat does his speciality the orchestra stops playing, and in the same way this supreme trick of Lili's merited a little silence. Incest itself was only another stimulus to Teresa's pleasure. I would have passed it up for just that reason.

However, to take a beautiful woman in the way that brings to the surface her greatest ardor, and to feel down at the bottom of her entrails a tiny hand, soft but firm, that takes you, that grips you, that feels you, that caresses you… Truly, if you have never had such an experience, believe me that it is superfluous to attempt to add a moral conception such as incest to so intense a physical sensation. It is sufficient in itself when one knows how to regulate one's desires, moderate one's passions, and live content with a little that is at the same time a great deal.

By what renewed chance did I encounter Mauricette a second time on the stairway a few steps from my door? I don't know, but I must admit that I was scarcely surprised. Chance of this sort repeats itself, strangely enough, more often 'than it varies.

Silent and pouting, she turned her head away from me when I attempted to kiss her, but followed me freely into my room — in order to make a scene. I was waiting for it, and I deserved it: I had mounted her first of all; she gave herself to me; she had sent me her mother and her sisters out of a sense of family loyalty; but for two days now I had completely forgotten her-she to whom I owed so much.

I was remorseful at first; in a few minutes I was even more so, for Ricette suddenly seemed to me even prettier than she had before. And I must admit that our remorse usually mirrors the fluctuations of our attractions very faithfully.

What was she going to say? I quickly prepared several responses to reproaches that I anticipated. But if I anticipated a sentence it was always a sure thing that it was not the one that Ricette had on her lips.

“You're going to break my cherry,” she said calmly.

And since my face clearly showed that I was much more stupified than impressed, Ricette did not wait for my reply.

“Ah! That's great! You're a nice one! The day before yesterday I showed you my cherry and today when I offer it to you you don't want it!”

I took her on my knees unprotestingly, but before I could say a word she continued:

“What a character! You always do the opposite of what one wants. For three hours Charlotte pleaded with you to call her whore; it excites her when she's going to come; and you didn't want to; she told us that she never before met such a headache in all her life. But the next day you called mama whore ten times because she doesn't like it. You're a queer one!”

“Not queer at all.”

“Oh yeah? I'm not even finished. You know that mama and Charlotte like to be cornholed. So what do you do? You tell them that the only thing you like is to screw. But when I have my virginity to sell, and I decide to give it to you…”

“You're a dear!”

“Go on! When Charlotte wants it from the rear, you want to give it to her from the front.

And when I offer it to you from the front, you don't want it at all.”'

I sighed deeply. To be obliged to give a long explanation, knowing in advance that it will not be understood, is a terrible situation. I there-fore renounced my best arguments in favor of those which Ricette would understand most easily. “Listen. You're fourteen and a half?”

“Yes, and I should be able to fuck if I can be cornholed.”

“Good. You can screw. But did you know that it will hurt you a lot worse from the front than it ever did from the rear?”

“That's okay,” she said tenderly. “And did you know that it won't make me any happier than you?”

“I care even less about that,” she said gayly. “And then what's going to happen in the evening? Since all four of you are lesbians your mother and sisters are going to see right away that something is missing. Teresa will be furious. We'll all get shot together when she gets wind of it. And what'll we have left after all that? The memory of half an hour in which we had a lot more pain and trouble than pleasure, and all the while I will be regretting that you will be in the process of fucking others. Let's do the contrary. Let's have someone else take your cherry, and then we'll screw as much as you want.”

Mauricette remained thinking. I realized later that she undoubtedly wanted to ask me why it was worth two thousand francs if I didn't want to do it for nothing. But she remained silent, and while she was lost in thought, an idea came to me that ended by winning her over.

“Why don't you give me your other cherry instead?”

“Which one?” she said surprised.

She didn't get it. Since she was still on my lap I pressed her against me and said in a low voice, “Let's see. I won't be lowering you in front of your sisters, but no one will hear us. Aren't you ashamed of yourself, at your age, not to know how to suck yet? Is that it?”

She certainly was! She blushed like a child whose confessor has reproached her for a mortal sin.

“How is it that you're almost fifteen and you still don't know that?”

“Ah! If I told you…”

“Yes, but that was childishness. We have to cure you of all that once and for all. Do you want to try? Would you like to try it once with me — all alone?”

She put her arms around my neck and, hiding her head between my cheek and shoulder, replied, “Yes. I'd like to try it with you.”