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Authors: Erica Jong

Fanny (26 page)

BOOK: Fanny
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We sat down to Tea, serv’d by a Butler and a Mulatto Maid, and presented in the most gorgeous Chinese Tea Dishes of canary Glaze.

Mrs. Coxtart chatter’d on, speaking of Balls and Assemblies, the fine Equipage she had order’d, the Servants she would soon be adding to her Ménage—as if indeed she were trying to impress me with her Wealth and Station. Did she see me as a potential Suitor for her Daughters? ’Twas most curious to me, for something was a bit amiss about her Chatt’ring. She did not seem like a Lady of Quality with all her boastful Talk, and i’faith her Daughters titter’d behind their Fans in a most disrespectful Fashion, and said nothing but “If you please” and “Thank you,” as they pass’d the Dishes of Bohea Tea, the Sugar Bowl, the Cakes, Buns, and Sugar Plums. Moreo’er, I could scarce prevent my Eyes from seeing that all three of ’em lookt Goats and Monkies at me (as did their Mother) and they flirted quite shamelessly, leering o’er their painted Fans (which had shockingly lewd Pictures on ’em), thrusting forward their Bosoms as they pass’d the Cakes, as well as titt’ering, darting meaningful Looks at each other, and, in short, behaving more like Tarts than Ladies.

Druscilla, I recall, devour’d ev’ry last Cake and Sugar Bun, whereupon Evelina, who, all the while, had pouted at her Sister in Annoyance (perhaps she wisht to polish off the Buns herself), now proceeded to eat the remaining Sugar with her Teaspoon—as if in spite. Kate, for her part, dispatch’d the leftover Butter with her Fingers, whilst Mrs. Coxtart stirr’d the Tea Leaves with her Fork, and call’d loudly for more hot Water from the Pantry whilst she blithely spear’d the last remaining Sugar Plum upon the End of her Knife. Could these be Ladies? Their House and Servants seem’d to speak in their Favour, but their Manners (if such they could be call’d) spoke against.

When the Tea was quite finish’d and the Butler was clearing away the Dishes, Mrs. Coxtart privily gave some Sign to her Daughters, whereupon they all rose as one and, with coy Looks, nodded in the Direction of the Stair.

“Will my Fine Gentleman partake of our Afternoon Nap with us?” she askt. Druscilla leer’d peculiarly and Evelina pointed up the Stair with her Fan whilst Kate was lifting her Petticoat far above her Ankles to show a Pair of well-turn’d Legs in red silk Stockings, and at the same Time, she was plainly winking at me.

“Thank you kindly,” I said, “but I must be off.”

“And where will ye go with yer Money stolen, Lad? Come now. ’Tis best to do as we say.”

“No, Ma’am, but thank you kindly,” says I.

“Not so fast, Lad,” says she, whereupon she grabs me firmly by the right Arm whilst the Butler (who has lately reappear’d) commandeers the Left and I am half dragg’d, half lifted up the Stair, whilst the three Daughters lead the Way gesturing wantonly as e’er before.

I am carried into a great Bedchamber, hung with red Damask, and with a fine Fire roaring in the Hearth, behind an iron Fire-Screen wrought with Bas-Reliefs of naked Nymphs, and a carv’d oak Bedstead no less than seven foot broad and ten foot high, and fairly festoon’d with red Damask, as well as Tassels of Silver and Gold.

I am thrown rudely upon the Bed, my Mouth smother’d with Kisses by the Raven-hair’d Druscilla, who also unlooses her Stays and drops one by one her small uptilted Breasts with their piquant Nipples into my waiting Mouth. Meanwhile, Mrs. Coxtart and the other Daughters are lewdly dancing and disrobing—as if indeed they were Grecian Bacchantes.

Mrs. Coxtart throws off her Boddice, Stays, Petticoat, and e’en Linen to show an awesome Body made of Breasts that reach fair to the Navel, a Belly flaccid as that of an old Spaniel Bitch bred twice yearly, and Legs so cover’d with broken Veins that they might be Barbers’ Poles. Kate, with her blond Hair and ivory Skin, resembles a Statue carv’d in palest Marble, whilst Evelina, with her honey’d Skin and ringleted molasses Hair seem’d a Vision from a Book of Imaginary Voyages to Undiscover’d Tropick Isles.

The Butler stood at the Door, as if to guard it, but he had position’d himself to watch the Play as well, and ’twas plain he’d not be cheated of his Afternoon’s Amusement.

Now Mrs. Coxtart, Evelina, and Kate leapt upon the Bed and began to pull off my Clothes whilst Druscilla teaz’d my Mouth with her pert Breasts. The Butler’s Eyes widen’d and one Hand wander’d deep within his Breech.

Surely I was ruin’d once they discover’d my Disguise! What horrible Things would they do to me when they found out (as they presently must) that I was but a Lass and could not satisfy their sundry Lusts?

Slowly, they remov’d my Boots, strok’d my Legs, e’en suckt my sweaty Toes (which, strangely, sent a potent Fire coursing thro’ my Veins). Next, they pull’d off my Breeches but not my Linen yet, and whilst Mrs. Coxtart made fair to straddle my Body with her huge Legs and let her loathsome Self down upon what she hop’d was an upright Cock, Druscilla remov’d the very last Barrier standing betwixt her Dream of my Masculinity and the Truth of my Femininity—namely my Linen—whereupon she gave out a Scream like one who hath fallen amongst Thieves, and cried: “’Tis a Wench! By God! ’Tis a Wench!”

At once they all stopp’d their Gyrations, Mrs. Coxtart fairly dismounted me, and e’en the Butler drew near to see this prodigious Wonder—a Wench dress’d in her Brother’s Clothes!

“Sly Wench,” whispers Mrs. Coxtart, and yet she seems not put off by the News of my Sex, for she still stands upon her fat Knees above me on the Bed, fondling her own dark Nipples with one Hand and laying bare my Breasts with the other. There are many Oohs and Ahhs of Admiration as the Ladies (and one Gentleman) expose my entire naked Form, unbind my Hair, cast away my Clothes, and begin to pay Attention—all five of ’em!—to sundry Parts of my Anatomy. (By the by, Belinda, you may be wond’ring what became of the tell-tale Witches’ Garter. ’Twas still upon my Leg, but in their rapacious Lust, my five Seducers paid not one Whit of Attention to it!)

Mrs. Coxtart usurps from Druscilla the Care of my first Orifice, stuffing her enormous Dugs into my Mouth and indeed almost choking me with those pendulous Promontories of Flesh. At the same Time, the three Graces (for so I had begun to think of ’em), paid particular Homage to my Thighs and Belly, and, of course, the chief Attraction which lay betwixt ’em. Kate fell to her Knees and teaz’d my Cunny with her Tongue, finding the most Inflaming Spot quite readily. Druscilla strok’d my Thighs, whilst Evelina made fair to fondle my Breasts, now tweaking my Nipples with her delicate Fingers, now wetting ’em with her warm, slick Tongue. The Butler, for his part, suckt upon my Toes, as if, indeed (being just a Servant), he were wary of ascending any higher!

Ne’er had all my Senses been more inflam’d! These Nymphs were as skill’d at the Business of spreading Fire as an invading Army—but could they put it out? My Heart palpitated in my Breast, my Breath came short and in the most rapid Gasps, and my Thighs strove to close around that Head whose Tongue provok’d ’em to this Frenzy.

Seeing me so near the critical Ecstacy, Mrs. Coxtart withdrew her Attentions from my Mouth, and extracted from beneath the Pillows a curious ivory Object shap’d like a Masculine Member (but, i’faith, twelve Inches long and thick as a clench’d Fist!). ’Twas carv’d with strange entwining Figures, diminutive Men and Ladies engaging in the lewdest Practices, and verily its Size fill’d me with both Terror and Lust—for I fear’d ’twas intended for me!

Whilst the Butler and two Graces firmly held apart my Thighs (and whilst Druscilla toy’d with my Breasts), Mrs. Coxtart knelt beside me on her monstrous Knees, parted the ruby Lips of my tender Sex, and fairly thrust the whole carv’d ivory Gewgaw into my Pudendum, burying the devilish Thing quite up to its devilish Hilt! O I cried aloud with both Pain and Pleasure as she did so, and Tears ran out of the Corners of my Eyes. Druscilla lickt ’em with her Tongue (indeed, lickt my Eyelids, Lips, Nipples, e’en my Navel) whilst Mrs. Coxtart, grinning like the very Devil (and smacking her Lips in Lust and Mischief), thrust the ivory Cock again and again into my Cunny, until I was so inflam’d with Pain and Pleasure that I cried out sharply, whilst my Sex contracted like a beating Heart and finally spent its Contractions in an Excess of Pleasure. At last, I dissolv’d into that melting Flow which Nature hath design’d for the Senses’ Recov’ry of themselves.

Nor was Mrs. Coxtart content to stop here. Nay, she must now repeat the Endeavour, teazing my most sensitive Spot with her Tongue and taking me again twice more, then thrice, until I was so weak with Pleasure (and my Cunnicle was so sore) that I could do nought but whimper in her Arms at last.

Truly that pleas’d her, for seeing my compleat Submission, she was well-satisfied and now she fell to the Satisfaction of her own Lusts, bidding the Butler to service her huge greasy Nether Orifice whilst her “Daughters” (indeed, I scarce believ’d ’em such any longer) paid particular Attentions to her Dugs, her Nipples, and her bulbous painted Lips.

The Butler had a Batt’ring-Piece—for truly one could call it nought but that—that was not long but extreamly stubby and thick, and indeed Mrs. Coxtart was quite acquainted with it, for she call’d it by a pet Name (“Cockshort” or e’en “Master Shorty”) and seem’d oft’ to have avail’d herself of it in the Past. She pull’d him down upon her on the Bed, clasping his thin Form to her fat one, manoeuvering his Body this Way and that for her own Pleasure whilst the Bed shook like a Raft upon a Storm-toss’d Sea and the Nymphs left off their Ministrations (indeed Mrs. Coxtart was too lost in her own Ecstacies now to notice ’em) and fell to mimicking her comick Grunts and Gyrations like Merry Andrews at a Country Fair! O they were cruel in their Miming! But truly, she was an irresistible Subject for Satyre. Her Eyes bulged as she approach’d her Dye-Away Moment; her Thighs quiver’d; her Mouth slobber’d and she cried out, “O Mother of God!”

When she had had her Satisfaction of the Butler, she bade him roll off her, and she swiftly dispatch’d him to the Scullery again, whilst Druscilla, Kate, and Evelina all moan’d in Misery.

“’Tis not fair! Not fair! You spent his Seed and left no Drop for us!”

“’Tis Pity, Girls,” says she, sarcastically, “but I’m the Mistress here and have my Rights. Pray, satisfy each other with this Toy!” And straightaway, tossing the great ivory Cock to Druscilla, and gath’ring up her fallen Finery, she waddles out of the Chamber in all her Nakedness and locks the Door behind her. I was so exhausted by then that I could scarce move.

“Not fair,” grumbles Druscilla, turning the ivory Cock in her Hand. (What a curious Toy it was! The Carvings were so placed as to give Pressure to Critical Spots as well as inflame the Eye, but Druscilla was not enticed by it.) “I like a nice warm Bushwhacker, not a nasty cold one!” she said.

“O do shut up, Dru,” says Kate. “Ye know Mother Coxtart will ne’er share her beloved Shorty. She’d see his Thingumbob cut off first.”

“It looks cut off already!” says Evelina, laughing wickedly. “O Hell, I’ve got the Cunny-Itch now. Who’ll finish me?”

“Not I,” says Druscilla.

“Nor I,” says Kate.

“Do it yerself, ye lazy Thing,” says Dru. “Ev’ryone
else
does.”

“What about the new Girl?” whispers Kate.

“I wouldn’t risque me Neck,” Druscilla whispers back. “She seems quite spent. What’s more, Mother Coxtart would flog ye for it—at least until she’s sold her Maidenhead.”

“Maidenhead!” cries Kate. “Why e’en if she had one before, there can’t be much left now. The old Bag is daft. She’s so mad to make the new Girls submit that she loses herself a fat Profit into the Bargain.”

“She don’t care,” says Dru, “she can always use the Pigeon Blood and Sponge as she did with you and me. She wants to get their Blood inflam’d is all—to start ’em off.”

“Well, she won’t be havin’ no Trouble with this one,” says Evelina. “She’s a hot one.”

“Redheads always is,” says Kate. “Blondes is cool.”

“Hah!” says Dru. “That’s a Load o’ Shit!”

“Come on, Dru, finish me off! I did it fer you last Night,” says Evelina.

“An’ made me pay a Guinea for it, too, ye Blowzy Tart!”

“’Tis force o’ Habit,” says Evelina. “Unless I charge fer it, I don’t enjoy it none meself!”

“The Vixen!” says Druscilla. “Always quick with some new Impertinence! Well, I’ll not scratch yer Itch again. I’ve better Uses fer me Fingers. Here—try this instead!”

Tho’ I pretended to be asleep during this astonishing Conversation, and had my Eyes shut, I could not resist opening ’em a Crack to see what Druscilla was tossing to Evelina. ’Twas another curious Toy, a series of three ivory Eggs join’d by a red silken Cord.

“Here, stuff this in yer Crack to plug it up!” says Druscilla.

Whereupon Evelina loses no Time, but straightaway lyes down beside me on the Bed, flips up her Petticoat, spreads her Honey-colour’d Thighs, and stuffs the ivory Eggs—one, two, three, into her commodious Cunny. A red silk Cord dangles seductively from her Molasses-colour’d Nether Curls.

“Pray, what now, Dru?” cries Evelina.

“Clasp the silken Cord,” says Dru, “and pull it up and down, but pray, take care to keep yer whorin’ Thighs together or they’ll all come out!”

From where I lay, with Eyes half open, I could see Evelina tugging on the silken Cord and squeezing her Thighs together whilst she moan’d and sigh’d in Ecstacy. Her Mouth was open, her Nipples harden’d until they pointed Heavenward, her Mop of Curls toss’d this Way, now that, as she tugg’d and squeez’d, squeez’d and tugg’d. At last, the Dye-Away Spasm seem’d upon her and, with a piercing Cry, she ceas’d her Motions and lay still.

“Pray, wash it ere ye give it back to me!” Druscilla cried, at which Kate laugh’d merrily whilst Evelina merely groan’d in reply.

Presently I heard the Door to the adjoining Chamber open and Dru and Kate retire therein whilst Evelina and I lay spent with sensual Passion in the huge oak Bed, each pretending to ignore the other, each feigning Sleep, until soon we did not have to feign, for Sleep engulf’d us like an Ocean Wave, and we both sail’d away.

CHAPTER II

Some Animadversions upon the Author of that Notorious Book,
MEMOIRS OF A WOMAN OF PLEASURE
,
or,
FANNY HILL
, together with our Heroine’s True and Compleat Recital of what really happen’d during her Initiation into Mother Coxtart’s Brothel, her first Visit to a London Draper’s, and a most astonishing Message from the Ghost of Robin Hood.

BOOK: Fanny
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