"Sade, Marquis De - The 120 Days Of Sodom 2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Marquis de Sade)

no more than a minute or two before.
But the libertine was not yet ready to bring the affair to a
conclusion, this voluptuous mania of his constituted a mere preliminary; he
gets to his feet, bestows further kisses upon his little partner, exposes
to her view a great ass of very evil aspect and very unclean, and he orders
her to give it a thorough shaking, to socratize it; this brings his prick
up furiously again, he now returns to Eugenie's ass, overwhelms it with
renewed caresses, lickings, and so forth, but what he did after that it is
not for me to relate, nor would it properly figure in these introductory
narrations; you will, Messieurs, have the great kindness to allow Madame
Martaine to tell you of the behavior of a villain with whom she was only
too well acquainted; and in order to avoid all questions, my Lords, which
your own regulations forbid me to treat, or resolve, I continue on to
another episode.
"Just one word, Duclos," said the Duc, who then queried the storyteller
in an indirect language which enabled her to make lawful reply. "Was it big
with the monk? Was this Eugenie's first time? . . ."
"Yes, Sire, the first, and the monk's was about the size of yours."
"Ah, fuck my eyes!" muttered Durcet; "a damned pretty demonstration,
I'd like to have seen that."
You would perhaps have been equally curious, Duclos said as she picked
up the thread of her narrative, about the individual who, a few days later,
passed into my hands. Outfitted with a vessel containing eight or ten great
turds gathered from all quarters and whose authors he would have been very
distressed to have identified, I was with my own hands to rub him from head
to toe with this fragrant pomade. Not an inch on his body was neglected,
not even his face, and when I had massaged his prick, which I frigged at
the same time, the infamous pig, who all the while stared contentedly at
himself in a mirror, left evidence of his humble virility between my palms.
And at last, gentlemen, we have arrived; I can now advise you that the
homage is about to be made in the veritable temple. I had been told to hold
myself in readiness, I kept my bowels closed for two long days. It was a
commander of the Order of the Knights of Malta with whom I was to break a
lance; he used to see a different girl every morning for these exercises;
the following scene transpired at his home.
"Very fair buttocks," was his opinion as he embraced my behind.
"However, my child," he continued, "there's more to it than simply having a
comely ass, you know. That comely ass must know how to shit. Tell me, have
you the urge?"
"Such an urge I'm dying to satisfy it, Monsieur," I confessed.
"Well, by Jesus, that's delicious!" exclaimed the commander, "that's
what is called excellent service to society, but look here, my little duck,
would you like to shit in this chamber pot I'm offering you?"
"In faith, Monsieur," I made answer, "what with the need I have to
shit, I'd do it anywhere, I'd even shit in your mouth."
"No! In my mouth, you say? Why, bless me, that is delicious, and that's
precisely the place I myself had in mind for you," he added, setting the
pot aside.
"Well, Monsieur, let's make haste, bring up your mouth," said I, "for
indeed I'll not be able to hold back much longer."