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Authors: Charles Devereaux

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Erotica, #Victorian

Venus in India (16 page)

BOOK: Venus in India
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At first I was overcome with faintness and fatigue. I could hear Fanny yelling but could not go to her assistance. I sat on the bed next to the motionless Amy and panted; I did not feel my wounds much, but they made me sick. Poor Amy was lying on her face, which I could not see. She was stark naked. Her arms were tied behind her back, her elbows being made to meet. Bandages, also fastened behind, passed apparently over her face and confined her rich flowing locks at the back of her head. I had not time, nor spirit, to fall to admiring her lovely form, but to this day I see those rich full hips and those beautiful hemispheres, between which was that back entrance so lately defiled by the beastly Afghan's black prick. At last, somewhat recovered, I began with hands trembling with fatigue and excitement to try and undo the bandages. They were knotted too tightly, however, and I had to use the knife I held to cut them, and wherever I touched her the blood streamed from me on to her fair white skin, until she looked as if she were weltering in her own gore; but at last I succeeded, and got the arms free, and the bandage off her face, then putting my hands under her, I turned her on her back. In so doing I unconsciously grasped two full and firm bubbies which adorned her bosom far more richly than Fanny's did hers, for, though some eighteen months younger than her sister, Amy was more 'grown up' in body than Fanny. I was in an agony to know if the Afghan's brutal boast was true. Had he fucked as well as he had undoubtedly buggered the unfortunate girl? Hardly noticing then the fact that the bush which curled all over the plump and well-shaped motte under my eyes was far thicker and more grown than on Fanny's, I slipped an enquiring finger into the palpitating and sweet little cunt, feeling sick at heart with dread and apprehension'. Oh! joy! she had not been fucked. Her dear little maidenhead was intact. Buggered she had been, but not ravished.

Full of this good and important discovery, I ran to Fanny, whose voice was hoarse, and implored her to go to her sister's assistance. Already I could hear voices of men running up the steep path which led from the bazaar in the valley on the other side of the house, and fearing lest, in their zeal to help, a number might break in and discover the two girls naked as they were, I implored Fanny to put on her petticoats and to go and cover Amy. But Fanny had quite lost all self-possession. She indeed went to Amy's room, but on seeing her naked, bleeding and apparently dead, and the gory carcass of the slain Afghan lying on the floor in a lake of blood, she rushed out again, screaming and crying like one demented.

I ran to the door in time to prevent the kotwal from letting any of his men climb in through the window, and I begged him to set guards round the house, to remain where he was, and to send at once for Dr Lavie and the picket of the regiment. Satisfied that my orders were being carried out, and that though bursting with curiosity neither kotwal nor peons would try to get inside the house, I went to Fanny who was crouched in one corner of the room, and endeavoured to assuage her fears, telling her that Amy was only in a faint, and that it was my blood and not hers which covered her body. The poor girl had received so many shocks to her nerves that at first it was almost impossible to rouse her to her senses, or make her understand that her sister must be attended to. I called her attention to the chattering and hubbub outside, and I really was anxious to get her out of the room, for I could hear the remarks made to each newcomer and the ughs! and ohs! with which each one saluted the dead body of the murdered and unfortunate chokidar.

I wished this piece of news not to get to Fanny's ears yet awhile, and at last I persuaded her to go and look after Amy. I threw a dark blanket over the bloody corpse of the abominable Afghan, and Fanny, with visible shudders, picked her way over the blood-spattered floor. She did not seem to appreciate that she was, to all intents and purposes, naked. The Afghan had not, as the one in Amy's case had done, torn her nightdress completely off her. He had rent it from top to bottom in front, and Fanny still had her sleeves on her arms, short sleeves which permitted her arms to be almost entirely seen.

Perhaps feeling the fluttering remnants of her nightdress made her think that she was covered, but as a matter of fact I saw (and as I saw I admired, and as I admired I desired) the whole of her body in front, and she looked bewitching, with her eyes wildly glancing about and her sweet little bubbies rising and falling rapidly as her bosom expanded and contracted with her quick breathing. Her pretty motte, pushing out a little into a perfect cushion, rapidly narrowed to the point where the plump little gem of a cunt showed its deep and tempting line. Her bush was not thick enough to permit me yet to see that line which is visible when a naked girl stands upright and is not conscious that she is displaying her secret charm of charms to an admiring man, and when she sat down beside her completely naked sister I could compare cunts, and fancy which one would give me the greater pleasure to fuck.

Goodness! what strange thoughts do get in a man's mind at inopportune moments! I was perfectly conscious that what I had to do was to relieve Amy, and further search the house, and yet there I was debating those two lovely girls' cunts in my mind, and comparing their bubbies, their forms and their thighs.

I got Fanny the water and bade her sprinkle Amy, and I begged her again to be quick and put something on, for, 'You are perfectly naked, my dear girl!'

'Oh! What does it matter? What does it matter?' she said, bursting into tears again. 'I feel as if I should die!'

'But look, Fanny darling, you must not give in so! Remember, you are a lady and a soldier's daughter, and be brave! That's right, dry your tears. I have sent for Dr Lavie and expect him here. But quick and bring Amy around. She breathes all right,' I added, laying my two hands on her lovely bubbies. 'Sprinkle her well! That's right! She will soon be all right! Then cover her up in bed and get in with her. You have not been half so badly used as she has!'

'How?' asked Fanny, in a voice of surprise.

'She was gagged by that ruffian,' I said, pointing to the dead Afghan under the blanket, 'and he had tied her arms behind her, and I don't know what else he may have done.'

Fanny had been long enough in India to have learnt all about the theory of fucking, even if she had not been old enough before leaving England to know it in that happy land.

She burst out, 'Oh! poor, poor, Amy! Oh! Captain Devereaux, what shall we do? What shall we do?'

I understood her cry.

'Don't be alarmed, dearest Fanny. I don't think the ruffian did any wicked deed that will leave bad results. But I am sure Amy must have fought, and perhaps got badly bruised and hurt.'

I could not tell her that I had actually seen the Afghan's prick in Amy's bottom up to his beastly balls, and Fanny had run away too soon to have seen it herself, and she knew nothing of sodomy at that time. I persuaded her to be brave whilst I went and visited the rooms, saying that I felt sure no other Afghans were in the house, but I would first make sure. Before going, however, I called in the kotwal, and posted some of his men in the passage, shutting Amy's door so that no curious eye could see the naked girls.

The first room I visited was the colonel's bedroom. There was Mrs Selwyn apparently fast asleep. I tried in vain to rouse her. I opened her eyes and the immensely distended pupils told me the reason for her torpor. Opium! Drugged! There had been premeditation, and there must be a traitor, or a traitress, in the house.

I next went to what was called the nursery. There Mabel, a fine girl about twelve or thirteen, slept with the younger children, and an ayah ought to have been there also. But there was no ayah!

Mabel was awake, crying and sobbing. She gave a little shriek as I came into the room, but the moment she saw me, she sprang out of bed in such a hurry and in such disorder that although there was but the feeble little light, burnt as I have said by everybody at night, I not only saw her sweet little cunt to perfection, but could see that already a downy growth was shading the motte, which promised to be beautiful when the season for collecting the ripe fruit from the garden of Venus duly arrived. Mentally I ejaculated to myself, 'I seem to be destined to see all the fuckable Selwyn cunts tonight.' For Mabel could certainly have taken me then, young as she was. I knew the measure of a cunt which would admit my prick by this time. However, let me proceed.

Mabel, delighted to see me and not, as she feared, an ogre or a robber, flew into my arms and hurt my left one and my chest wounds so much that I could not refrain from calling out. She started back and roared when she saw her nightdress all covered with blood. I had great difficulty in pacifying her, but got her back into bed, where I kissed her and begged her to stay quiet. I told her how the robbers had come, and I had killed one, after being wounded myself, and that everybody was safe and sound, and that I would tell her more in the morning. She was a biddable girl and really was very quiet, lying down and promising to be good. I examined the two other children and found them in the same state of stupor as Mrs Selwyn. Evidently they had been drugged and the whole thing was a plot. The ayah's absence assured me of this. Had she run away to give the alarm, help would have come long before, but the kotwal had told me that it was Fanny's unearthly screams that had aroused the bazaar. It seemed plain to me that the mission of those two Afghans had been to rape, perhaps to bugger also, Fanny, Amy and Mabel, and that Mrs Selwyn and the two younger children had been drugged to prevent their adding any outcry in case of a squalling match on the part of poor Fanny and her sisters whilst they were being raped, etc. The man I had killed had done his work better than the fool who took Fanny, for he had commenced by gagging Amy, who could not utter a sound, even whilst she was being buggered, poor child! Had she not been gagged, I would have heard her when I was trying to bring Fanny around and perhaps poor Amy might have been spared. I went back to Amy's room, but dreadfully sick, ill and in pain. She expressed her gratitude more by her eyes than by her voice and she put up her sweet face so imploringly to be kissed that I bent down, though it hurt me to do so, and gave her some warm kisses on her trembling lips. Then bidding Fanny to remain where she was, in bed with Amy, I went to see whether there was any sign of Lavie and the picket.

I had not to wait long. But during the interval the kotwal told me that three of the colonel's house servants were lying dead in the go-downs of the outhouses, viz., the cook, the bearer and the sweeper, and that the chuprassy [office-messenger] could not live long, having been repeatedly stabbed, and two children had their throats cut. It was a fearful massacre and I could hardly believe that two men could have done it. There must have been more, but I only saw two and no one lived to tell the entire story of this ferocious attack.

Soon the regular beat of drilled and disciplined men was heard as the picket came as quick as they could up the steep ascent from the bazaar, and jolly little Crean, the wild sprig from the Green Isle, and Lavie both appeared. In as few words as possible I put them in possession of the facts. Lavie instantly sent off for his stomach pump, which he had not brought, not expecting he would require that implement. Crean set his sentries and scoured the bushes and rocks but found nothing new. The bodies of the slain were put in one outhouse by themselves, and as soon as Lavie said the young ladies could bear it, the parry entered their room and carried off the huge carcass of the dead Afghan. He was an enormous man, and I shuddered for poor Amy's bottom when I saw the immense size of his now dead, limp and hideous prick! No wonder it fitted tight and made a 'pop' when he had suddenly pulled it out of her unhappy behind! I had determined not to tell Lavie what I had seen that prick doing, but left him to suppose that I had arrived just in time to prevent a rape.

Then, and not till then, did I let him see the state I was in.

Dear reader, have you ever been wounded? If you have, you will remember how sickening it was when the skilful surgeon dressed your wounds. Mine were not dangerous, except one where the knife had just penetrated inside my ribs, but they grew necessarily painful as they got uncovered and the clothes were pulled, no matter how gently, away from them. Lavie insisted on my going to bed in Fanny's room. He said I must remain perfectly quiet and drink nothing but water (for I was dying of thirst and longed for a peg), for fear of inflammation setting in. Luckily, I had lost so much blood that unless I did something foolish there was little fear of my getting into a bad state from inflammation; still, it was wisest to take every precaution.

The state I was in, I wondered how my prick could have stood so exorbitantly stiff such a short time since, whilst I was toying with Fanny's cunt, trying to bring her to, for now it felt as if it would never stand again! I felt so deadly weak The excitement was over and the reaction had set in. I blamed myself, for I thought that had I had my wits about me I would have left Fanny's cunt alone and visited the other rooms first, and then in all probability poor Amy would never have been buggered. I wondered, did she know she had been? Or did a merciful heaven render her insensible before the brutal Afghan defiled her bottom with his beastly prick? I hoped the latter. I wondered at Fanny; I thought she would have been more heroic, but I made due allowance for her, and oh! she did look so lovely, and so did Amy, when they were both naked! And what a charming little cunt Mabel had too! And so on, and so on, until I fell into a kind of delirious sleep from which I did not awake for several days.

I remember that awakening very vividly. It was bright daylight. The window was open, as well as the door of the room, and the sweet cool air blew gently in upon me in the most refreshing manner, sometimes mingled with loud laughter which came rolling up the hillside from the busy bazaar. The twelve fine young whores had arrived, and I dare say I heard the happy laughter of some of the Tommies waiting anxiously for their turn for a jolly good fuck. I heard of this event from my young friend Crean, who told me later that Jumali was really an A1 poke, and a splendid and very pretty woman. In fact, Jumali was the favourite of all those useful and graceful women. It was she who, I afterwards heard at Peshawar, had always commenced the night with the colonel to be followed by three or four of the other fresh and plump ones. Ah! that 'inspection' cost the colonel dear, and might have cost him more than it did. Poor Amy! Poor Amy!

BOOK: Venus in India
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