hands and knees, but this time he let Nature take her course in normal channels.
From this time on the man was unable to resist the temptation to try to do it to me in the bottom on every occasion which presented itself.
Determinedly I resisted blandishments, coaxings, and even treacherous efforts to catch me unawares, but it got on my nerves and brought choleric protestations to my lips. In justice to Mr. Castle, I must say that he took my angry rebuffs and blunt refusals to gratify his unnatural whim in good spirit and unfailing pleasant humour.
It was then I intimated to Madame Lafronde that it would not hurt my feelings were his affections tactfully transferred to some other girl, but I was ashamed to tell her the exact reason.
'Why don't you want him?' she insisted.
'Well, I finally said, 'he has crazy ideas. The first night I had an appointment with him he stood me on my head and did it to me upside down!'
'What!' she expostulated. 'Is that the only reason you dislike him?'
Abashed, I made a clean breast.
'No, it isn't! If you must know, I'll tell you! He never gives me a moment's peace from wanting to do it to me in the bottom!'
I expected that this revelation would bring a decided expression of indignation from Madame Lafronde and that she would now be willing to concede that Mr. Castle was indeed a most objectionable client.
But, after gazing at me a moment, she began to laugh heartily.
'And is that all that is wrong with him?'
'Isn't that enough?' I responded stiffly.
'My word, girl,' answered the old lady, 'there is no pleasant road to success in anything, not even in whoring. You're going to meet men far more difficult to deal with than this Mr. Castle, so you must now learn how to get what you want from them and how to evade what you don't want by using diplomacy. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. I don't know about that, I never did much cooking, but you can take my word for it that the way to his purse is through his cock.
And his purse will stay open just as long as you keep his cock in a good humour and no longer!'
I was not too dense or too stubborn to comprehend the wisdom of her philosophy and I did indeed learn eventually that more could be accomplished by cunning and diplomacy than by angry words.
'Sometime,' I murmured to Mr. Castle one night as I deftly evaded a sly attempt on my bottom, 'sometime, I'm going to let you do that, just to see what it feels like… but not tonight!'
CHAPTER 9
When Mr. Wainwright was added to my list of regulars I found need of all the philosophy I could muster. He was a suave, dapper little man, rather handsome in an effeminate way, but very nervous and emotional. He was not, I think, over twenty-eight or thirty.
There was nothing special in his appearance to suggest the possibility of any weird abnormality, yet here is what happened: As soon as we were alone in the seclusion of my room he went through a pantomime of courting me in the most exaggerated manner. Words of gallantry, adoration, and vows of eternal loyalty poured from his lips as he knelt before me, kissing first my hands, then my feet and legs.
In accordance with my usual custom when receiving new admirers for the first time, I was fully clothed excepting one single garment which for convenience sake I left off, inasmuch as its absence would not be noted until the moment when its presence would be of no moment.
Taken aback by this man's strange performance, and indeed not being sure that he wasn't simply trying to be funny, I remained silent.
Murmuring words of endearment and adoration his lips gradually ascended to my knees, whereupon he turned his face upward and begged in supplicating words:
'Oh, my Fairy Princess! Give me your permission to raise the hem of this robe so that your slave may cool his burning lips on the sweet freshness of your divine limbs.'
This was too much for me.
'Go ahead and cool them, Sweetie!' I giggled with a democratic sociability quite out of keeping with the regal estate he had delegated to me.
Ignoring the flippancy of my answer, he turned the edge of my dress up, not high enough to reveal the absence of the interior garment already referred to, but just high enough to expose two or three inches of bare flesh above the tops of my hose. Upon this isolated flesh he pressed more moist kisses clasping my knee meanwhile to his breast.
'Beautiful Princess!' he sighed ecstatically, and then in humble, imploring tones, 'will Your Highness deign to repose upon the couch and let this faithful slave quench his thirst at the sweet spring of life?'
It was too ridiculous and I laughed hysterically, but supposing that he was now ready to 'quench his thirst' in the customary manner, I let him lead me to the bed and lay down, still laughing.
Disregarding my risibility he slowly and with exaggerated deference, raised my dress and folded it back. He gazed for a long moment at my denuded cunny which was now in plain sight, and then, before I guessed his intention, leaned down and placed his mouth on it.
Whether this was just a little frisking preparatory to an orthodox fuck I had no means of knowing at the moment, but in any event it was a pleasant variation, and I was agreeably surprised. I had been 'Frenched' on a few occasions even before entering Madame Lafronde's bordello, and sometimes Mr. Hayden would tickle my clitoris with the tip of his tongue for a few moments when Hester and I were with him. I was peculiarly sensitive to the caress and sometimes felt an inordinate longing for it, but with the exception of Mr. Hayden, none of my clients had ever taken the notion, and I, naturally, would never suggest it.
Consequently, when I felt this man's mouth on my cunny, and perceived the play of his tongue over the sensitive parts, I shivered delightedly, my clitoris stiffened up, and I relaxed my body to better enjoy the enervating caress.
It continued, actively, expertly. I felt my clitoris, now swollen and erected, clenched between his lips. A ravishing suction was being applied to it, and my sexual organism responded by throbbing excitedly with a mounting fever of lascivious ebullition. Heavens, it did feel good. If it were kept up a moment or two longer, something would surely happen.
I tensed my body, lifted myself up slightly on my elbows, and glanced downward to my companion. Unobserved by me he had opened the front of his trousers, and was frigging himself violently. I sank back with a groan, my ovaries yielded to the intoxicating incitation, and in a second I was suspiring in the ecstasy of orgasm.
No sooner had my sexual forces expended themselves than a feeling of revulsion came over me. I do not know to just what extent other women are similarly affected in this particular, but for several moments following ejaculation, the slightest touch upon my cunny causes me a disagreeable sensation. It passes quickly, but during those few moments I cannot stand even the softest touch or caress. As the last tremors or orgasm died away I put my hand on his head and gently but firmly pushed him away.
Yielding to the gesture, he released my clitoris from between his clenched lips. His face slid down a little and his lips attached themselves to the flesh on the inside of one of my thighs just below my cunny. This did not bother me, though I expected a discoloration would result from the strong suction he applied to the flesh as he continued meanwhile to masturbate himself vigorously.
The orgasm I had just experienced left me too languid to pay much attention to just what he was doing, though I was watching him through half-closed eyes. Suddenly, through his own lively handling, the jets of semen began streaking from his cock and flew all over my legs. And in the same moment, his teeth penetrated the flesh of my thigh where he had been sucking it.
Between pain and surprise I let out a shriek and sprang from the bed in a single bound. With mixed emotions of fright and anger I looked at him, uncertain as to whether I should fly from the room or demand an explanation of his brutality. He was lying on the bed, gasping and weltering in his own pollution, seemingly indifferent to my outraged feelings.
