January 17, 1899.
Lilian had invited me openly to spend Sunday with her in the absence of her parents. I refuse and she is vexed with me. What is the reason of this seeming imprudence? She is hand-in-glove with her Papa, and is now his mistress. Or she wishes to compromise us both. They must all have had a very mean idea of my intelligence to think I could not see through them.
These were my reflections as, full of curiosity, a curiosity which bid fair to conquer my lust, I took the train after dinner. It was a dull and showery night, and with the fear of rheumatism still upon me, I put on my box-cloth overcoat and a pair of thick shooting-boots.
Lilian was already out on the warpath, received me as usual with tantalizing remarks, and showed great jealousy. My refusal to pass Sunday with her touched her to the quick, and I was obliged to tell her that I always spent the weekly day of rest with my poor invalid mistress. She retorted that I did not love her much, or else I would not mind a quarrel at my home for her sake. I tried to make her more reasonable, but all my trouble was in vain. I allowed that she should feel some pain at my apparent devotion to my mistress, although I made her understand that the doctors forbade her all excitement or worry, but I could not see why she should draw me on to behave so indelicately towards her step-father. Here I watched her closely, as I said:
“I will not come openly to the villa, when the master of the house is away. I have behaved dishonestly enough as it is. Do you think it is the action of an honorable man to carry on an intrigue with the daughter of the house where he has been received with such confidence?”
I paused for a reply. None came. I continued:
“If your Papa was to know what I have done with you, he would be justified in kicking me all round Sonis, and I should have nothing to say.”
She never answered me, and my heart leapt in my breast as I now knew perfectly well that Pa, Ma, and Lilian formed an infamous Trinity of which I was to be a victim.
My home thrust caused her to hurriedly change the subject, and she talked of “Justine.” She had read the first volume and I had the second in my pocket for her. It had created a great impression on her. The parts that pleased her most were those where there were men and women together.
“Oh! That book!” she exclaimed, “I have not slept for reading it. I roll about my bed, and bite my pillow, and I am forced to relieve myself with my finger. I could not help it. And then it is in French, too. The other books I have of you are in English. I will return them to you tonight. This is the first French one I have read. I am going to be very good to you tonight. I will take you into the house. I have arranged with Granny by telling her that I am going to sit up and write some letters. She knows I received one from Papa today. By the way, I want you to do something for me in Paris. I do not want to go up tomorrow, as I have such a lot of work. I have got a lot of commissions from Papa.”
And she drew out a typewritten letter. I stepped back, out of delicacy, but she said I might take the letter, and read it, and keep it to do all that he requested. I did so, and at that moment had no idea of writing our story, or I should have copied the conclusion of the paternal missive. In guarded terms, Papa alluded to her health and begged her to take great care of herself. He said that she could count upon his great affection, and wished her to think of him as he was always thinking of her bodily health and her future welfare. It was not the letter of a guardian, but that of a lover.
Then we had our usual little quarrels. I was always reproaching her for her caprices and hardheartedness, and she was ever jealous of my mistress, and hinted that I ought to work harder and try and make some money.
Then she would press closer to me, and make me kiss her and feel her all over, outside her clothes. I had a gold pin in my scarf, and as our conversation touched upon the pleasures of cruelty, I amused myself by slightly pricking her arms and thighs, as the sharp point was strong enough to penetrate her clothes, and she did not seem at all averse to this insane diversion.
I asked her why she was always so wicked to me in winter time. Last year she would hardly see me, and now again it was the same. I compared her to a dormouse, but she could only laugh, and as usual I had no satisfaction. I ventured to say that perhaps she had some animosity towards me for having given her over to Lord Fontarcy. But she scouted the idea and said she had enjoyed herself enormously.
I wanted to know her impression while being flagellated and sodomized by my finger before witnesses.
“I had a feeling of disgust to think that Clara was there, looking at me. I would do anything you might possibly think of with men, but I loathe women. I would not mind being alone with ten men.”
“I love to degrade and humiliate you for my sensual pleasure, and there are lots of things I should like to do to you and with you. But I would not exercise real cruelty. I should always tell you beforehand what I was going to do, and if approved of by you, if you think you would like it, we could try it.”
“I'll never come with you again if there are to be women present.”
“Then if I asked you to join me alone with another woman?”
“I could not. I should refuse. I should be sick, or have a nervous attack. I hate women. If you and your friend want to amuse yourselves with women, don't invite me, but get some other girl that day.”
“I will never ask you to meet a woman, as I quite understand that tastes differ. I, too, find no pleasure with my own sex, but I can quite understand that other men might.”
“You are tolerant and are large-minded. I like you for that. I should be very pleased to meet Fontarcy again with you, but without Clara. It would be beautiful to be alone with you two. He likes me, too.”
“How do you know? You never saw his member. It is likely enough he never got an erection with you.”
“Yes, he did. When I was being sucked, I saw it sticking out. It was stiff against my leg.”
“That was while he was licking you.”
“He never licked me. You did. But I saw his big stiff machine.”
Here were two hallucinations, or falsehoods. My readers will remember that Lord Fontarcy had produced her orgasm with his tongue, and not I, and I knew perfectly well that he did not open his trousers that day. I have since submitted this to him, and he agrees that Lilian was mistaken. I take it that she was thinking of someone else.
“I am pleased you like all my mad imaginations,” said I to Lilian. “When Lord Fontarcy returns to Paris, if you could get out, no doubt he would be delighted to see you. I don't know anybody else well enough to offer you, as it is a ticklish thing to propose. All men do not understand such things. There is no danger with my friend. He lives in England and does not even know your name.”
I asked her why she had never looked him up in London and she replied that she was frightened of her brother. She said she kept him in entire ignorance.
“And now,” whispered Lilian, nestling up to me, “tell me something nice and horrible, that you would like to do to me.”
“I should like to have you naked-”
“Always naked!” she interrupted, with a sneer.
“Yes, for this diversion, most certainly, and then strap a broad leather belt round your loins as tight as you could bear it, so that you would not only be very uncomfortable, but I should enjoy the sight of your small pulled-in waist, and your bottom which would swell out bigger than ever in consequence.”
She kissed me most voluptuously and asked me for some more “dreams" of mine.
“You are my slave, and you stand upright in front of me, not necessarily naked this time. Your legs are close together and, with the same belt, I strap your thighs together, just above the knee, as tightly as I can. Then I would force my hand through your thighs just under your pussy, from the front, and then from behind, under your bottom, and the brutal passage of my hand would hurt you a little, but you would have pleasure, as I would tickle your slit. I should enjoy the delight of power and domination, without speaking of the soft contact of your skin, and the captivating manner in which my hand would be imprisoned between your thighs. And you would be ashamed to be thus exposed and humiliated. The combination of two such opposite sensations would be very pleasant indeed.”