So randy even in your present state, Lesley? A moment more and I shall make you do something which will shock you profoundly. Can you guess it, Lesley? Yes! I believe you can! The promise of chastisement alone shall ensure your obedience this time.'
Dr. Jacobus in turn was the object of prolonged applause. He was recalled repeatedly, smiling and bowing his thanks to the guests. Our generous host, the Pasha of Ramallah, has put his own private bedroom at my disposal. Its secret windows look into adjoining suites, including that of Dr. Jacobus. Now I make my way thither to see what I shall see. Be sure, dearest Charlie, you shall have a full report of the proceedings from your own adoring
Lizzie
LETTER 15
Charlie! Oh, dearest Charlie!
This shall be the last, the very last, letter you shall receive from your devoted Lizzie! You will not think me cruel when you know why. Those pages I wrote in such haste last night to describe the experimental lecture lie upon my table. You shall read them one day if you wish, though I scarcely think you will need to! This, which I write now, shall come to you first!
Let me explain, Charlie. I looked through the glass from my own boudoir into that allotted to Dr. Jacobus. The learned doctor was not there-or rather he was just going out of the door with Regina, the sharp-faced little Italian minx with her tumble of dark curls. The other two girls, Patrizia and Francesca, remained. They were accompanied by four of the Pasha's guards, who looked upon them with greedy eyes. Both girls were dressed again. Eighteen- year-old Patrizia, with her stocky prettiness,' appealed to the men, with her wide-brown eyes, dark, page-style hair, the broad and high cheekbones of her warm-skinned face. Her softly luscious Italian breasts weighed out the blue silk of her blouse. The tight, denim trouser seat was once again broadly filled by the voluptuous heaviness of the olive-skinned cheeks of Patrizia's bottom. What a sophisticated contrast was Francesca, the young wife of twenty- five! Her blond hair was swept back from her rather sharp profile and blue eyes, and pinned in an elegant coiffure at the back of her head. Her costume, too, was more elegant than the younger girl's. A pink, belted tunic came down to the top of her hips. Below that she was dressed as if for a transvestite role in tight and shiny plum-coloured trousers with a sheen like polished leather.
Patrizia is the wide-eyed pleasing tomboy, Francesca the sexually experienced seductress. One of the guards, an Arab lad of fourteen or so, advises her of some blemish on the tight, leather trouser seat. The young blond woman lifts the back of her tunic, giving him a sight of her elegant, oval bottom-cheeks in the tight, deep-red leather. Looking down over her shoulder, she begins slowly and suggestively rubbing off the blemish from her leather trouser seat with her fingertips. The mere sight of this causes his young weapon to go off, leaving the cheeks of Francesca's trouser seat in a more perilous state than before!
Two men entered at this point, both in carnival masks to conceal their identity from the girls. I had no doubt that the old one was Patrizia's companion during the experimental lecture.
A bench with a padded leather top was at the centre of the floor, and the two Italian girls were facing it on either side. They were required to kneel over it on all fours from opposite sides. Yet they are made to press as close together as possible.
The older man is thus presented with the voluptuous, broadened seat of Patrizia, and the face and elegant coiffure of Francesca. His younger companion, as he kneels, admires Patrizia's tomboy face and Francesca's bottom-cheeks and hips tightly clad in plum-red leather. Each man takes down the pants of the girl whose rear faces him, so that both are bare from their waists to their knees. He is thus offered the mouth of one and the nether body entrances of the other. The side of each girl's face touches the bare flank of the other's hip.
Francesca's fair-skinned thighs tense with pleasure as the young man's tool parts her legs and enters her warm vagina from the rear. The old man requires her to suck at the same time, leaving Patrizia entirely idle. Presently the old roue withdraws from her mouth and presents his stiffened tool between the voluptuous, olive-skinned cheeks of Patrizia's bottom. There is some alarm in the wide eyes of her face, but, though she catches her breath at the outrage, the older man's knob widens Patrizia's arsehole and his piston is soon engulfed in her behind. The younger man rides Francesca's cunt for several minutes, then he withdraws and presents himself to Patrizia. There is a moment of shying away before Patrizia sucks at last, leaving Francesca idle as the two men busy themselves with the eighteen-year-old tomboy.
The older man draws from Patrizia's rear and, in turn, it is Francesca who-for all her sophistication and promiscuity-shies away. The older man kneels patiently, presenting himself, awaiting her compliance. A guard, cane in hand, comes forward.) The bamboo marks the pale, oval cheeks of Francesca's bottom. The blond coiffure twists, and her hips squirm. It is suggested that her modesty is merely a pretence. Her last vestiges of propriety require it to seem as if she acted under compulsion. The caning continues until, after a dozen strokes, Francesca opens her mouth widely and wildly for her master, sucking as if her life depended upon it.
Now the young man deserts Patrizia's lips and, taking advantage of Francesca's pale, bamboo'd seat, stretches her rear dimple 'round his shaft. After ten minutes of arse exercise for Francesca, he draws away. Now you may imagine how Patrizia's brown eyes widen, how her protests come through pressed lips.
The guard with the bamboo can scarcely believe his good fortune. His cane smacks down across the width of Patrizia's bottom, so voluptuous. Almost twenty strokes before the cries and tears lead to a tremulous parting of the lips and the weight of the young man's penis, pressing on Patrizia's tongue.
You will imagine, Charlie, that even now I gloss over some of the grosser details. You know, I am sure, that the two girls were not entirely unwilling, and that some of their defiance was assumed in order to heighten the drama by the use of the bamboo. My reason for thinking this was seen in the last act. The two men lay down on their backs upon a pair of padded benches. The two girls lay face down, Francesca on the younger man and Patrizia on the elder. Both their Italian cunts were impaled on the stout tools, and the girls themselves were to provide all the motion. Over each bench stood a guard with a cane, who thrashed the backside of the girl presented to him by these postures.
Francesca's pale, oval buttocks were soundly caned and you might think that Patrizia's darker, heavy-cheeked arse was bamboo'd with exceptional cruelty. Both girls cried with the anguish of the bamboo, and yet with pleasure at the same time. Patrizia came twice and Francesca four times, before the guards at length laid down their switches, as the two masters pumped moulted passion into their slave girls' vaginas.
The two libertines resigned the Italian beauties to the guards and turned away. It was then that I heard the younger man speak to the older through his carnival mask. 'Well, Uncle Brandon, may the deuce take me if that isn't the best night's work that a fellow ever did. I can't say that even Lizzie should ever know quite all of it from me! Have you ploughed enough now, old fellow? Shall we take Nabyla and Jenny Khan to the next room and roger 'em the same way? Or shall we bed them separately?'
I swooned, Charlie, as perhaps they have told you. Carried to bed I now write this last letter. But why did you not say that you were to be at the demonstration lecture. Did they not tell you? This moment two letters arrive for me in your dear hand, telling of the drama of Noreen and your life as a fugitive. Are you now still in bed with Nabyla, my sweet? Stay there! For I am coming, Charlie, and shall bring this last letter in my own person.
Lizzie
POSTSCRIPT
With this last charming note, the correspondence between our two young friends comes to a conclusion. Yet their frolics were not quite over, as I may testify, because I have been their companion these past few weeks at Ramallah, preparing the letters for publication.
Many mysteries were revealed, not least the truth about that delightful old rogue, Uncle Brandon. The frisky old fellow was alive and well when Charles heard of his death and was summoned to Gray's Inn. In truth, it was the old
