“And I will give you back kiss for kiss. You must teach me to love you as you love me.”
“You shall be my little slave of love. Everything I tell you, you must do. I shall exact obedience. And now you must tutoyer me.”
“That I shall never dare to do. You must keep on saying your delicious tu to me, but I shall always be respectful to you.”
“As you choose. Perhaps you are right. I am so much older than you. I will be your father, and you shall be my little daughter. You are my incestuous daughter. Do you like the idea of committing the infamous crime of incest with me?”
“Oh, yes! It is a very pretty idea. I love to hear you talk, and as you kiss, tell me what you are going to do to me. You shall be my Papa, my sweet Papa.”
“Now let me ask you something. Has M. Arvel-do not be offended with what I am going to say-he is not your real father, but only your Mamma's lover, as he has told me himself. Has he ever taken liberties with you?”
“Oh, no! He is very respectful to me and very severe in everything of that kind. The only time he ever said anything rude was after he had nursed me through a long illness, when I had inflammation of the bowels. He said, one day: 'Lily, what a big black forest you have got!' I was so angry!”
I forget now all the promises of voluptuous passion I poured into her willing ears, but I can well remember that she answered incessantly:
“Yes, yes! Tell me more! Tell me what you will do to me!”
And she sucked my mouth deliciously. I spoke vaguely of infinite delights, of unknown joys, but I was afraid to go too far. If she is a virgin, I thought, I may alarm her, and, if she is not, she knows already as much as I can tell her.
So I dropped her near her Granny's but not before we had made another appointment for the twenty-sixth.
She is profoundly vicious and deeply naive, not knowing herself what she wants. If my diagnostic is wrong, then she is the most consummate actress ever seen, beating Sara Bernhardt and La Duse out of sight.
I had now begun to make a few notes in my diary concerning this bizarre maiden. The idea about her being a clever comedienne, I jotted down at the time. My souvenirs will now take a more tangible form, as nearly every date stated is correct, and I can manage to render an account of every important caress we ever gave or received. Her letters were generally in French, but a few are written in English, and others in both languages mixed. I have not altered a word, but have simply translated them as well as I could. I wrote in French. Papa's letters I also give, and in fact every scrap of documentary evidence bearing on the story. Some of my own letters I give in extenso, as I kept copies of a few. Unfortunately, certain missives-the best or the worst-are in the hands of the heroine, and I can only give a brief summary when necessary, as memory serves, or omit them altogether. The greater part of this narrative was written day by day as the incidents occurred, especially the later portion, and events serious to me transpired, which in the hands of a craftsman ought perhaps to have modified earlier opinions, and caused a more harmonious resetting of the whole story. I prefer to leave my manuscript as it is. It may be full of faults and contradictions, but these defects will show the reader that this is not a novel composed on ordinary lines. It is a simple confession, where a man coldly performs the operation of vivisection on his own heart and brain, and my greatest reward will be if the reader, on finishing the memoir-supposing that he does finish-it exclaims: “I should think it is all true!” And if lady readers gibe bitterly at the author, and say it is a tissue of falsehood and utterly impossible, then my triumph will be complete.
November 26, 1897.
Everyone knows the feverish excitement experienced by an eager lover, when awaiting his mistress at the first appointment. I felt hot and excited, and gave a great sigh of relief, when Lilian slowly lifted the portière and advanced towards me in the tawdrily furnished bedroom of the mysterious pavilion of the rue de Leipzig. I quickly bolted the door, and drew her to me, placing her on my knee, as I sat on the inevitable chaise-longue. She seemed worried and frightened, and told me that she had great trouble in getting away from home. There was a tremendous struggle to get her dress unfastened, and she studiously avoided looking towards the large curtained bed that occupied the middle of the room. She hoped I would not touch it, as, if I did, people of the house would guess we had been using it! I tried by my kisses to warm her blood, and I think I succeeded, for she grew more and more bold and I was able to undo her dress, and feast my eyes on her tiny breasts, which were like those of a girl of fifteen. Nevertheless, the size of the red and excited nipples proved her real age. I sucked and nibbled them greedily, and her pretty ears and neck also came in for a share of attention from my eager lips and tongue. I begged her to let me take off all her garments, but she wanted me to be satisfied with her small, but beautifully made breast. I pretended to be deeply hurt and she excused herself. I must have patience. This was the first time. She would be more yielding when she knew me better. I replied by boldly throwing up her skirts and, after admiring her legs, in their black stockings, and her coquettish beribboned drawers, I at last placed my hand on the mark of her sex. It was fully covered with a thick, black undergrowth and quite fleshy. The large outer lips were fatter and more developed than we generally find them among the women of France. Her legs, though slim, were well-made, and her thighs of fair proportions. I began to explore the grotto.
“You hurt me,” she murmured.
And as far as I could tell, she seemed to be intact, or at any rate had not been often approached by a man. I could feel that my caresses delighted her greatly and she gave way a little. At last, I persuaded her to take off her petticoat and drawers. She consented, on condition that I would not look at her. I acquiesced and she dropped her skirt and took off her bodice, standing before me in her petticoat and stays. She wore a dainty cambric chemise, tied with cherry ribbons, and I enjoyed the sight of my love thus at last in my power. I gloated over her naked shoulders; the rosy nipples stiff and glistening with my saliva; and the luxuriant black tufts of hair beneath the armpits.
She consented now to drop her petticoat and, as I leant back on the sofa, she placed one soft, cool hand over my eyes and, with the other, undid everything, until she stood in her chemise. She would not go near the bed and struggled to get away from me. Indeed, she would not let me touch her, until I closed the window-curtains. We were in the dark. I placed her on the chaise-longue and, going on my knees, I tried to part her thighs and kiss her mossy cleft. With both hands, she tried to push me away.
“You hurt me!” she said again, but I licked her as well as I could and, feeling the warmth of my mouth, she opened her thighs a little, and I managed to perform my task. It was difficult, as she writhed about, uttered pretty little cries, and would not sufficiently keep her legs apart. But I was not to be dislodged. I was not comfortably installed. My neck was well-nigh broken. The room, too, was very hot; but I remained busily licking, sucking, perspiring, and my member, bursting with desire, already let a few drops of the masculine essence escape from its burning top. I am certain she experienced a feeling of voluptuousness, by the shuddering of her frame at one moment, and by the peculiar taste that I could not mistake. At last, she thrust my head away. And I rose to my feet, greatly pleased at leaving the prison of her soft thighs. I got my handkerchief, wiped my mouth, and, returning to her as she still lay motionless and silent on the couch, I threw myself upon her without ceremony. I inserted the end of my turgescent weapon between the hairy lips of her lower mouth and, forgetting all prudence, I pushed on. She shrieks and dislodges me. I try to regain my position, but I cannot succeed. She was a virgin; there was no doubt about it.