Eveline

Chapter 7

I have already told you I am beautiful. I am dearly fond of the beautiful in art. What can be the difference then between the beautiful in the glass and the beauty in the picture? Rely upon it, every woman is certain to know the exact measure of her good looks-if she possesses any. She is sure to be reminded of her defects. Her inner consciousness will, whatever may be her natural vanity, infallibly lead her to a correct appreciation of her charms. She may think she can impose on others by her beauty. It is only by the flattery, or the honest opinions she obtains, that her vanity is touched, that comparisons are made. When she goes home and in privacy she sees, she knows the naked truth for better, or, for worse.

When a man tells me he thinks me the most beautiful girl in the world, I know he is talking nonsense. When he simply and obviously admires me for my comeliness, I may believe him. If he goes further, if he ventures to speak of love to me, I know I have excited his desires. I can see it in his eyes. It is evident in the parted lips, the ardent, furtive, searching glances with which I feel he is striving to pierce the thin veils in which modesty-save the mark-robes the nude form of woman. He is gloating secretly on all his fancy pictures hidden beneath. He is forming his ideas on the subject of my nudity- of the extent of my fabricated personality. Poor man, if he could only look in reality below, he would find there was nothing there but Nature unadorned. In fancy, he gives his ideal full swing. He sees me as his lust would have me. He sees the perfect bust-the panting bosom which no fashionable corset could improve-the waist and ample haunch-the buttocks which no dressmaker ever pads with wretched cotton wool. The man, after all, is only a society satyr. His lust, subject as it must be to the decencies of ordinary life, lifts him, for the nonce, from the commonplace, knockabout men of average intelligence, into a being which interests me. In fancy he beholds me stripped-at his mercy-small mercy I should receive at his hands! He rages in private. He snorts like a stallion over a young mare. I have no contempt for this poor creature. Shall I confess the truth?

I feel intensely for him. That confession does not prevent me from displaying to him such attractions as my beauty-my knowledge of mankind-enable me to excite him with. His agony of lust is to me a selfish gratification. It is joy to me to watch his hardly concealed emotion. I know him. I treat him simply as he would me. I am, in his shortsighted view, too innocent and too young-altogether too inexperienced-to understand anything connected with the realities of sensual instincts. He does not scruple to let loose, for my benefit, his lust of the flesh. It has extended to my flesh. He figures to himself, in his licentiousness, all the delights he would enjoy in my possession. In his bestial concupiscence he revels in the ideal enjoyment of my innocent young charms.

Could the man who struts in society only know how his glances at Eveline are noted and enjoyed, he might indeed be more bold, but he would nonetheless meet with the failure he merits. She is not the girl, young and innocent as he deems her, to play the puppet while he pulls the strings, and boasts loud-tongued at his club of his society successes!

A fine morning. Actual sunlight, and in London! I spring out of bed. Just eight o'clock. My cold tub is there ready. How refreshing it is! How I glow all fresh and red as I stand and rub myself down! The act reminds me of Jim-of grooming a horse. I should like Jim to groom me. Well, should I really? Yes, that I should, when I remember the sight which for a moment met my gaze through the stable window. I commenced my morning toilet. I gradually nurtured at the same time an idea which became more and more fixed in my mind. My passions, I fear, are not always made subservient to my higher perceptions. It is my nature to give them a flight sometimes. To indulge them against- sometimes-my cooler judgment. How can I, with my temperament, stop to think of risks-of results? So my fancy ran free now. In fancy I was again at the stable window. That did not prevent me from completing my morning toilet. I descended to breakfast in the dining room. Papa was there already, his newspaper and his letters before him.

"Good morning, Eveline; here is a letter which will interest you."

A large envelope enclosing a card. The arms of the late Duke of M. The invitation, at last, to the costume ball.

"It will be magnificent, my darling. You must make a sensation. All the guests are to represent some particular personality. How will you go? You would look adorable as Anne Boleyn."

"And my papa would look defiantly inscrutable as Charlemagne. Oh Papa, it is fixed. You must go as Charlemagne!"

"And you, Eveline?"

"I shall represent my great-grandmother-your grandmother, Papa. I have already considered all. We have her jewels. We even have in the great wardrobe the dresses she wore at my age. You told me yourself how like I was to her in the picture in your study. I can imitate the pose-the look-everything. It is fixed, Papa-you will not deny your own little girl?"

He never denied me anything. He would go to the Duchess's ball as Charlemagne, if practicable. I, as my own great-grandmother!

"Do not forget we dine tonight at Lady Lessleton's. There will be some nice people there who are always worth meeting. She is very erratic in her assemblage of guests at these little dinners. You have been asked to meet someone in particular, you may depend on it; such very young ladies are not always selected for these affairs."

"I will not forget. I shall try to look as bright as possible to please my dear papa first, and the somebody in particular next."

"Naughty girl! Kiss me!"

The dinner passed pleasantly enough. Lady Lessleton laid herself out to be very nice to me. Papa was right. I was coupled with a delightful old gentleman-the magistrate at Bow Street. Sir Langham Beamer was a bachelor, a gentleman, and a man of taste. I like old people. I took particular pains to be agreeable to him. He was a very smart, gay old gentleman of the old school. He loved the society of the young. He was evidently delighted to find that his hostess had not forgotten his foible. I heard him express his gratification in no measured language to her after dinner. I found him full of anecdotes and information, with a distinct and eradicable tendency in his conversation to revert to his own profession. I thought him charming. He made me promise to come round with papa and see him administer his functions in his Police Court.

At quite an early hour we returned home. It was the brougham they sent for us. Sir Langham Beamer put me in himself. Papa received me in his arms. We rolled away, our lips sealed together-our hearts beating against each other-our hands-ah me, our hands… The restraint was dreadful-the longing terrible. Between the two I was nearly mad. Papa, I could see, was no better.

"Covent Garden-opera-oh, here it is. Faust tonight. Look, what a splendid cast! Will you go, Eveline? The music of Gounod always delights you. Will you go?"

"Yes, dear Papa. It will cheer me up. I feel I want to hear something sympathetic. I love Gounod. I am not tired of Faust."

"Agreed then, we will order the dinner and the carriage in good time."

For some days he had withdrawn himself a great deal from my society. Only on such occasions as were unavoidable did he come to me, or venture himself within my influence. I was certain he had been forming resolutions to restrain his passion.

I had been absent and abroad for three years. I went from England and from what most children look on as home-my mother's house- a child. I returned a grown woman-very young, it is true-but still a woman physically and mentally, with such experience as only a debauched French institution de demoiselles can supply to color the life of a young girl. My sensations as I prepared myself for the evening were of the wildest anticipation. On this occasion I determined to go straight through with my intrigue. I was infatuated. I had nursed this passion a long time. I had built up all the most captivating and extraordinary theories and fancies respecting it. I imagined the pleasure-the sensuous gratification to be derived from it, to be supreme. The lines of Voltaire haunted me. We had already gone too far to draw back. He knew it as well as I did. It was that which induced the present visit to the Opera.

I dressed myself to please him. I decked myself out in just the dainty and coquettish style which I knew would swell his lust. The corsage just showed enough to make the observer wish to see more. My whole toilette was of that ephemeral character which could serve only to heighten the unruly passion which burned to fever heat in his veins. I was armed. I had no regrets. I only dreaded a failure.

The great theatre was crowded. The atmosphere was oppressive. Sir Edward leaned oven the back of my chair.

"My darling Eveline, you look more beautiful than ever tonight."

"I am always glad when I can please my dear Papa."

"Your dress is perfection, it leaves nothing to be desired."

"Absolutely nothing, Papa? Poor Eveline!"

"Why do you say that, my dear child?"

I took his hand and held it. I leaned back in my seat, and put my face close to his. His eyes shot flames of passion. I had shut mine and sighed. He kissed the nape of my neck just under my hair. I squeezed his hand and patted it with my softly gloved fingers. I put my right hand on his thigh. My breath came fast. I trembled. His agitation became extreme.

"My beautiful-my darling Eveline!"

We had heard the last of the beautiful serenade. We sat silent. It was the entr'acte. His arm was round my waist, my hand wandered slowly and caressingly upon his left thigh.

"My sweet Eveline, you excite me dreadfully!"

"Why not, my darling Papa? Your Eveline loves you so dearly; you alone are my ideal."

He pressed me closer, but in silence. His passion rose hot, furious, it showed in his bated breath, his swimming eyes, his every movement. His nostrils were dilated like those of a stallion with the intensity of his lust.

We were well behind the curtain and in the recess of the box. I threw my head back. He kissed me on the lips. A long, lingering embrace which spoke volumes of his desire.

"Shall we go to the restaurant and sup there again, my sweet?"

"Yes, papa. It is most oppressive here tonight. The opera is too long. The instrumentation makes my head ache. Let us go at once."

The supper was exquisite. The wine warmed our blood. Sir Edward drank freely. I read a fixed purpose in his eyes. He could not keep his hands off me. He helped me to all the choicest morsels. By his desire I retained my gloves. He watched the exit of the waiter and tipped him handsomely. Then he locked the door.

We sat side by side upon the sofa. His arm was round me; with his right hand he caressed by bosom. We exchanged burning kisses. I boldly laid my hand on his limb. It was hard and stiff and seemed half as long as his thigh.

"Does that give you pleasure, dear Papa?"

"It is delicious, my darling Eveline."

"May I undo the buttons?" I whispered.

He saved me the trouble; my daintily gloved hand was pushed inside, I held his limb in my grasp. Meanwhile he was busy with my legs and his touches penetrated quickly to my naked thighs. I wore no drawers. His limb seemed larger than ever. My skirts had been arranged for the occasion. He gasped in his eager lust.

"How happy you make me, dear Papa!"

He embraced me rapturously.

"Your touches are more intoxicating than wine, my sweet Eveline."

He gloated over my shoes, my silk stockings. He passed his trembling hand softly up and down over all. I had rightly gauged his fancy.

A sudden movement released the noble limb. I saw it standing up stiffly. I seized on it again. I beheld the long white shaft, the mottled blue veins, the purple head-all, all for me at last!

I gently moved my hand up and down, covering and uncovering the big nut.

"Does that hurt, Papa?"

"No, my darling, you give me delicious sensations."

"I am so glad, papa! What a sweet things this is!"

"I rejoice in possessing your love, my child. You may continue to feel it. Do you also really enjoy the excitement you experience in handling it?"

"Yes, certainly I do! I am never so happy as when my hand is around it."

"Dear girl! What lovely soft gloves you have! I love to see them daintily clasped round the impudent fellow. See how he raises his red head! My Eveline, you must not deny him; you must let him have his way tonight."

"I am yours only, dear Papa! Do with me what you wish."

"We will intoxicate ourselves with pleasure, Eveline, but we must be careful and take all possible precautions against any mischance."

He pushed me back gently upon the sofa. He loosened his clothes to be more at his ease. He raised my legs upon the couch and knelt between them. Then he sank softly down towards my bust and I felt him endeavoring to adjust his limb to the lips of my slit. He set his teeth hard and pushed his loins forward. I opened my legs for him.

"Oh, Papa! Dear Papa! You hurt me-you do hurt me so! Oh! Oh!"

He thrust again. There was no mistake this time, and at least half his long limb was in me. I felt it throbbing in my vagina. Then came more thrusting against a contraction I well knew how to apply.

"Papa! Papa! You are killing me! Oh, it is too much! I cannot bear it-indeed you hurt dreadfully! Good Heavens! I shall die! Take it away-oh!"

He had done his worst. I felt my parts dilate; his limb passed up me. He was at last in the full enjoyment of my person. The whole length of his delicious thing was in me to his balls which I felt bang against me underneath.

The pleasure was celestial.

He worked up and down, evidently intent on the delight he experienced. I resigned myself-I even assisted him with a gentle undulation of my loins.

"My Eveline, my sweet girl, the pain has passed; there is nothing but pleasure left now. There! There! Feel how it throbs, the poor thing! Let it go in. There now, open your dear thighs-so."

I lay gasping in an agony of spasmodic convulsions. At length I felt he was approaching the climax. With a sob of rapture, he discharged right into me. I felt his hot sperm spouting up me. It was too much ecstasy. At length, he slowly withdrew. I quickly snatched a steel pin from my hair and pricked myself on the edge of my parts. Seeing I was unable to move and apparently faint, he promptly applied his handkerchief, even before I could find mine.

"My darling Eveline-you have indeed suffered! You have bled, my child, my kerchief is stained with blood."

"Cruel Papa! But I love you."

Sir Edward opened a door-a dressing room with toilet arrangements was disclosed. He led me there.

"Quick, Eveline, wash well and with cold water. Here, put a few drops of this brandy in the basin. My darling, be sure you are thorough in your present petite toilette."

In a few minutes I felt myself again. The thing was done. I had gained my end. My theories were correct; nothing could ever equal the pleasure he had given me.

We sat together on the sofa, our hands linked, his arm round my waist.

He looked at the clock. It was yet early.

"We came away from the Opera in good time, we need not hurry. I want to enjoy my sweet Eveline again. Does she regret what we have done?"

"No, Papa. Great men are excused faults which in ordinary people are crimes. In my eyes you are a great man. You remember that Charlemagne enjoyed two of his own daughters? He was only a great soldier like my papa."

"Yes, indeed, but how did you come to know that?"

"I read it in Voltaire-when I was in Paris."

"But how come they let you read Voltaire at school?"

"Oh, with a little of one's pocket money there is no difficulty in getting the concierge to do one so trifling a favor as to buy a book. I had four little volumes from him which he bought for me expressly and kept in his lodge. I had a great fancy to read Voltaire's account of Charlemagne. Was it wrong to do so, Papa?"

"No, my child-only you seem to have run a risk of being detected."

"There is no pleasure without risk. Are you intoxicated already with yours, dear Papa?"

"No, my darling Eveline, let us have more. Let us do it again!"

I put my hand on his limb. He released it for me to caress. It rose stiffly under my touches. It regained all its grand dimensions. I bent down my head and kissed it. I opened my lips, took the big knob into my mouth and sucked it. It was delicious. Papa groaned with rapture.

I pretended a lack of expertise, which prompted a fury in him I had never seen but soon fancied. He shoved my head down and thrust himself deeper. I took it all. We were mutually excited. He took me in his arms. He laid me again upon the sofa, raised my clothes and lay again on my body. My slit needed no coaxing. He entered my parts and had me again deliciously. He discharged copiously. I sucked in every drop of his sperm. I could have screamed with the pleasure, had I dared.

A little later we descended to the private entrance of the restaurant. Papa called the cab which stood opposite. As he closed the doors of the hansom, I recognized the man with the hare-lip.