The Power of Mesmerism Part 8

Yes, there's young Harry Mortimer. He has got a fine looking lump in his trousers--a perfect Adonis--I've often longed to handle his c.o.c.k."

"You old sinner," laughed his wife, "I always thought you a strictly moral man. And to think your ideas ever ran in such a beastly course.

I, too, must confess, now Frank's mesmerism has made us all free with one another, how hard it has often been for me to retain my reputation as a chaste wife. Why there's Dr. Stroker, our rector, who has tried me dozens of times, and once actually showed me his fine tool when we were alone in the drawing room. What a beauty it was! I almost fainted with desire."

"Ah," said Ethel, "that's nothing to what he did with me, when I had to go to the rectory to prepare for confirmation. I was always alone with him. He used to laugh and tell me that religion was all humbug, he himself only followed and preached it as his trade, to get a good living. He would draw me on his lap, put his hands up my clothes, and tell me my cunny would soon have a crop of beautiful soft hair on it.

And one day he threw me back and kissed my c.u.n.t till I fainted, and when I came round my clothes were up to my waist, and he was standing between my legs as they hung over the side of the sofa and frigging himself so as to spend all over my belly, and after all would not let me go home till I had kissed and handled his c.o.c.k. That was just before you sent me off to Madame Cul's school and no doubt all helped to make Minette's touches so awfully exciting when she began to seduce me with her wanton games."

"We'll have a game with him, Frank, my boy!" exclaimed Mr. Etheridge.

"My idea now is that we may all do what we like to enjoy ourselves, only d.a.m.n all jealousy. I'm a regular Communist now! Well, when I ride out to-morrow I will call and ask Harry to spend an early day with you."

"Have you found anything worth reading to us yet, Frank?" asked his Mamma.

"Yes, a little bit about the quarrels of the G.o.ddesses in heaven. It is an old volume of the writings of the 'London Spy.' Here it is," said Frank, taking up a book:

POEM

A health Jove began to the best end of Juno, By which they had often been "Junctus in Uno," The bowl went about with much simp'ring and winking, Each G.o.d lick'd his lips, at the health he was drinking; Whilst Venus and Pallas look'd ready to rave, That her G.o.ddess.h.i.+p's scut should such preference have; The bowl being large, hoping the rather Their amiable rumps might have swam altogether. Thus both being vex'd, Venus swore by her power, The nectar had something in't, made it drink sowre: Which Pallas confirm'd by her s.h.i.+eld and her sword, And vow'd 'twas as musty besides as a T----d But Juno perceiving 'twas out of ill-nature, That Venus and Pallas abus'd the good creature, Because to her Peac.o.c.k, precedence was given, As the best and finest fledg'd bird in the Heaven; Insinuating under a wink and a snicker, As if the good health had corrupted the liquor: And finding they'd cast this reflection upon her, In Juno 'twas justice to stand by her honour: Who raising her b.u.m from her seat in a pa.s.sion, To Venus and Pallas she made this oration: "Pray G.o.ddesses! What do you mean, I beseech it, To basely reflect on my Tippet-de-wichet? I know by your smiles, leering looks, and your winks, And your items and jeers, you'd insinuate it stinks: Dispraising the nectar, well knowing you meant, That a health to my Tw----t gave the juice an ill scent. Nay, laugh if you please, for I know I'm extreamly To blame, thus to blurt out a word so unseemly. But all know the proverb, wherein it is said, That a What is a What, and a Spade is a Spade; And now I'm provok'd, for a truth I may tell it, Tho' as red as a fox, yet it smells like a vi'let. By Jove I'll be judge, if I am not as sweet, I may say, as a primrose, from head to my feet. And he, you may swear, who's my husband and lover, Has kist me, and felt me, and smelt me all over, And if he can say an ill scent does arise, From my ears, or my armpits, my c----t, or my thighs, Like rotten old Ches.h.i.+re, low Vervane or Ling, And altho' I'm G.o.ddess, I'll hang in a string. Your self, Lady Fair, that arose from the sea, Sure will not presume to be fragrant as me: The spark that has laid at your feet all his trophies, Has smelt you sometimes strong as pickl'd anchovies: But what if he has, were you ranker and older, You'd be e'en good enough for a smith or a soldier." These words put the G.o.ddess of Love in a fire, And make her look redder than Mars that was by her. "My beauty," said Venus, "obtain'd the Gold Apple." "Mine A----s Kiss,"

says Juno, "you shall have a couple. I'd have you to know, Queen of s.l.u.ts, I defie you, And all you can say, or the bully that's by you.

And as for that Tomboy that boasts she can wield, In quarrels and brangles, her lance and her s.h.i.+eld, That never yet tasted the heavenly blessing, But always lov'd fighting, much better than kissing: I know she'd be glad to be ravish'd by force, By some l.u.s.ty G.o.d, that's as strong as a horse. But who'd be so forward, unless he was tipsie, To choose for a miss, such a masculine gipsie? A termagant dowdy, a nasty old maid; Who flights copulation, as if she was spay'd: Which makes me believe, that under her bodice, She wants the dear gem, that's the pride of a G.o.ddess." Now Pallas, enrag'd at so high a reflection, Cry'd out, "I thank Jove, I am made in perfection, And ev'ry thing have, from a hole to a hair, Becoming the G.o.ddess of Wisdom and War; As Paris well knew, when he took a survey, Of those parts where a G.o.ddess's excellence lay; Who strok'd it and smil'd, when my legs he had parted, And peep'd till I thought his poor eyes would have started. Then licking his lips, did aver to be true, I was each way as full well accomplish'd as you. Indeed, Madam Juno, I'll therefore be plain, If ever I hear these reflections again: I vow as a G.o.ddess, and no mortal sinner, I shall have no patience, but handle your pinner." With that the Great Jupiter rose up in hot anger, And looking on Pallas, was ready to bang her. "Pox take ye," says he, "is your scolding a lecture, That ought to be preach'd o'er a bowl of good nectar? To drink we came hither, to sing and be civil; As G.o.ds, to be merry, and not play the devil. Why, mortals on earth, that live crowded in allies, As laundresses, porters, poor strumpets and bullies; When got o'er a gallon of belch, or a sneaker Of punch, could not wrangle more over their liquor. And you that are G.o.ddesses, thus to be squabbling, As if you were bred up to scow'ring and dabbling! And all for a fig, or a fart, or a feather, Or some silly thing that's as trivial as either!

For shame, my Fair G.o.ddesses, bridle your pa.s.sions, And make not in heaven such filthy orations About your b.u.mfiddles; a very fine jest!

When the heavens all know, they but stink at the best. Tho' ye think you much mend with your washes the matter, And help the ill-scent with your orange flower water; But when you've done all, 'tis but playing the fool, And like stifling a T----d, in a cedar close stool: Besides, G.o.ds of judgment have often confest That the natural scent without art is the best." The G.o.ddesses all, at these sayings, took snuff, And rose from their seats in a d.a.m.nable huff: Their frowns and their blushes, they mingled together, And went off in a pa.s.sion, I do not know hither.

"Here's another fine burlesque poem I'll read, if you don't mind,"

continued Frank, "it's called 'Vulcan and Venus.'"

VULCAN AND VENUS

Says Vulcan to Venus, "Pray where have you been?" "Abroad," cries the G.o.ddess, "to see and be seen." "I fear," says the blacksmith, "you lead an ill life, Tho' a G.o.ddess, I doubt you're a b.i.t.c.h of a wife." "Why, how now," cries Venus, "altho' you're my spouse, If you b.i.t.c.h me, you brute, have a care of your brows; Why sure you don't think, I, the G.o.ddess of Beauty, By dint of ill language, will prove the more true t'ye; Be civil, you'd best, or I vow by my placket, I'll make the G.o.d Mars bastinado your jacket!" "Are you there with your bears?" Smung replies to his Hussey. "Does Mars still refresh your old Furbilo, does he; I feel by my forehead a coat that is scarlet, Of all kinds of baits, is the best for a harlot; For beauty, I find, as 'tis commonly said, Will nibble like fish at a rag that is red; But Hussey, tell me any more of your Mars, And I'll run a hot bar in your G.o.ddess.h.i.+p's a.r.s.e; I fear not your threats, there's a fart for your bully, No wh.o.r.e in the Heavens shall make me her cully!" "You run a hot bar in my b.u.m,"

quoth the dame, "Its a sign you've a mighty respect for the same; If your love be so little as to abuse it, I'll keep it for those who know better to use it; I'm certain no G.o.ddess that values her honour, Would bear the indignities you put upon her, And not from that minute resolve out of spite, To improve your old horns till they hang in your light."

"You're an impudent s.l.u.t," cries the smung at his bellows, "And I the unhappiest of all marry'd fellows: I know you have made me a ram, I have seen it, I catch'd you, you Wh.o.r.e, in the critical minute, Fast lock'd in the arms of your lecherous G.o.d, Whilst his brawny posteriors went niddity nod; And you, like a s.l.u.t, lay as pleased and contented, As if every joint of your body consented; Altho' when you found you were spy'd by your buck, Then you struggl'd and strove like a pig that is stuck, And dismounting your G.o.d, would have made your escape, But I saw by your actions it could be no rape; Tho' when you first heard, by my patting-shoe tread, My approach to your Wh.o.r.es.h.i.+p's adulterous bed, I know you'd have flown with your coats and your bodice, And afterwards vow'd 'twas some other lewd G.o.ddess; But my net was too strong, it prevented your flying, And so put a stop to your swearing and lying.

Besides, that the G.o.ds might behold what a s.l.u.t Of a Beautiful Queen they amongst them had got, I call'd 'em about, that their Honours might stand, And be pimps to your G.o.ddess.h.i.+p's bus'ness in hand, That in case you the truth shou'd hereafter deny, I might call the whole Heavens to witness you lie." "And what did you get?" cries the amorous dame, "For the pains that you took, but a Cuckoldy Name; 'Tis true you're confirmed you've a Wh.o.r.e for your wife, Pray is that any comfort or ease to your life; And have made it appear to the G.o.ds as a jest, That your wife's reputation is none of the best; Does that make your labour more easy or sweet, Or give you more gust to your drink or your meat?

'Tis true, you are fam'd for the net you have made, Pray what did you catch in't but horns for your head; You know that your rival don't value a trap, Or a net, any more than a child or a clap; A soldier is never asham'd of his vices, But rather is proud of a G.o.ddess's kisses; And thinks it adds more to a hero's renown, To subdue a fair lady than conquer a town; Your spite must be therefore intended alone, Against me, and that my little faults might be known; Since 'tis as it is, I am very well pleas'd, Your head shall be loaded, my tail shall be eas'd; For since you have publish'd my shame and disgrace, And have made me a jest to the heavenly race; I'll be impudent now, and whenever I meet, My dear favourite Mars, tho' it be in the street; If a bulk be but near, I will never more dally, He shall, if it pleases him, ay marry shall he; Thus all you shall get by your open detection, Of one silly error in female affection, Is a wife that will cuckold you worse out of spite, Now she's catch'd, than before she e're did for delight; To punish thy head and heart, that very vice, Which I us'd but in private whilst honour was nice; I'll publickly now practice over and o'er, Till thou'rt fain'd for a Cuckold and I for a Wh.o.r.e." Cries Vulcan, "Could ever man think that a G.o.ddess, Admir'd for her charms by such numbers of noddies, Should ever be curst with so rampant a tail, That will wallow more love-sap, than I can do ale; A pox on your rump, for I plainly see 'tis As salt as your parents, Ocea.n.u.s and Tethys. But had I first known you had sprung from salt water, The Devil for me, should have marry'd the daughter; Besides, you are grown both so l.u.s.tful and bold, And for all your sweet looks, have a Billingsgate tongue, That is fifty times worse than a fishwoman's hung. If these be the plagues of a beautiful wife, O ease me, Great Jove, of so cursed a life; If La Pies divine, who inhabit the Heavens, Will Wh.o.r.e on like mortals, at sixes and sevens; Rave, rattle, and taunt at their horrify'd spouses, And ramble ab.i.t.c.hing thro' all the twelve houses; For all your fine features I'll e'en give you over, The charms of a Wh.o.r.e are but plagues to a lover. Get you gone and be pox'd, to your old bully Mars, Let a G.o.d be a slave to your G.o.ddess.h.i.+p's A----s; Whilst I'm contempt of your infamous rump, On my anvil will knock, with a thump, a thump-thump!"

The second day after Frank had read these curious old bits to his parents and sister, they were all delighted by the arrival of young Harry Mortimer to spend a day with his old school-mate.

To judge by appearances Mr. Etheridge had every cause for the curious desires he had confessed to, two days before. Harry was a really handsome youth of seventeen, with golden coloured hair, the bloom of the peach on his cheeks, and a most loveable pair of deep blue eyes which seemed full of the humid fire of love. He had also a finely developed form, which his close-fitting garments set off to the best advantage, and, above all, what had the most charm for the eyes of his friends as they so heartily welcomed him to their house was the evident precocity of his organs of love, which in their quiescent state showed a most prominent lump in his trousers.

Mrs. Etheridge: "Why Harry, what a fine fellow you have grown since I saw you a year ago. No doubt you are too bashful to kiss Ethel now, but you will surely embrace an old friend like me, who used to nurse you in my arms as a baby," giving him such an amorous hug and smack upon his cheeks that the young fellow blushed up to his eyes.

After luncheon Frank took Harry for a walk, and asking him if he would like to look at their horses, they bent their steps to the stables where the groom Thomas, a fine handsome young fellow of about twenty, was polis.h.i.+ng the coats of his charges, at the same time as he emitted that curious hissing which all stablemen so mysteriously accustom themselves to when busy over their work. He did not see the two young gentlemen till they had been watching his operations for a few seconds, but as soon as he did so, respectfully touched his cap and asked them to look at his horses.

Walking into the stable, Thomas, cap in hand, respectfully pointed out all the perfections of his pets and the neatness of all the appointments. Then he conducted them into the harness room, which was at the top of a short flight of stairs.

Thomas was about to close an interior door, which half open gave a view into his own private quarters, when, a sudden idea striking him, Frank said, "You won't mind, Thomas, if we take a peep into your sanctum--unless you have got a young lady you would rather we did not see. I only want to let Mr. Mortimer see how cosy your room is, besides, you know, I have often had a sly smoke with you there on wet days when I was home for the holidays before, and I know you have always got some nice clean gla.s.ses in your cupboard, if not anything better than water to offer us. But I have taken care of that and brought a good flask of finest brandy. I got the housekeeper to give me some of papa's real _vieux cognac_. It's ever so old and goes down like milk. Just the thing, Thomas, to keep you up to your work when you have a nice girl. But I forget you never do anything of the sort, eh! How about little Lucy, the under-housemaid, who I hear had to go home with a big belly not long ago?"

"Lord, sir!" said Thomas, quite enjoying Frank's joke, "that'll be another of old Stroker's kids when it's born. He did it when she went up to be taught her confirmation lesson. I'm told he confirmed seven girls in f.u.c.king, this examination. He's a regular ram of a parson, and will soon be the father of all the young'uns in the parish. I wonder Master let Miss Ethel go to him at all. I always suspected the old fellow after the way he treated me."

They entered the snug little bedroom, where everything was a clean as a new pin, and seated themselves on the only two chairs that were there, whilst the groom brought out the gla.s.ses and fetched a jug of bright sweet spring water from the pump outside.

Frank, mixing a rather stiffish drop, said, "Now, Thomas, drink the Rev. Mr. Stroker's health, and then tell us all about his tricks with you."

Himself and Harry also took a little of the brandy. And Thomas, pressed to begin, cleared his throat and commenced:

"Well, Mr. Frank and Mr. Mortimer, I don't mind letting you into the secret, but the fact is every time I think of the old rascal's indecency it makes my c.o.c.k stand, but you must not tell a soul what I now tell you."

"All right, go on, old fellow, just a drop more brandy to encourage your bashfulness, eh!" laughed Frank.

Thomas, wiping his mouth after a good swig at the brandy and water: "Well, sirs, that righteous old sinner, as an Irishman would say, began by asking me questions about who made me. If I knew there was a G.o.d and a Devil. Then about the world and the flesh, and so on, a lot of rubbish out of the church prayerbook. 'You know, Thomas, my boy,' he said, 'that the "flesh" means having to do with girls and other dirty indecent things which come into the heads of rude boys. Now tell me if you ever did anything of that kind with other boys or girls?'

"This was rather a poser for me. I didn't like to tell a downright lie and knew I had been a party to one or two little games of that sort, such as we used to do in the hayfield, throwing the girls down, turning up their clothes, and showing them our c.o.c.ks, which no doubt the old rascal knew. I could feel my face was turning quite red with confusion.

'Ha, I see what it is, Thomas! I must thoroughly examine you and tell by the look of your p.e.n.i.s' (that is the word I think he used, but you know he meant my c.o.c.k), as he ordered me to unb.u.t.ton and show him my privates, and he would soon tell if I had been up to any of the Devil's wickedness.

"As soon as I was exposed to him he told me to draw the skin of my c.o.c.k back, which I did.

"'Do it again, my boy, there now, again--two or three times mind.'

"Then I expect he saw slight signs of a rise, saying, 'Do it quicker--quicker, boy' till I had the horn quite stiff.

"'My gracious! You're finely grown for your age, Thomas. Now did you never show that to a gal?'

"'Well, sir,' I said, rather shamefaced at what he was making me do, 'I did once, but only once, sir, and Polly Jones felt it with her hand, and let me feel what her c.o.c.k was like, too.'

"'Fine goings on in my parish, 'pon my word, Thomas, but what sort a thing had she got? Because you know gals have nothing like this,' he said, taking hold of my standing p.r.i.c.k.

"'She'd--she'd only a little crack, sir,' I replied. 'Pray let me go now, sir, I don't like it.' He was regularly frigging me.

"'Silly boy, here's a half-crown to keep quiet, if you let me handle it a bit, and you shall have another every time you come to me,' he said, giving me the money, and soon frigged me to a spend and then let me go.

I didn't think much harm in it, and was very glad to get the parson's half-crowns, so went twice a week for examination. He wasn't satisfied with just frigging me, but sometimes went down on his knees and sucked my c.o.c.k till I spent in his mouth, which I liked better, but when he wanted me to do the same for him, and even offered me a sovereign, I wouldn't do it, only let him rub his great c.o.c.k against my belly and b.a.l.l.s, and then he would spend, holding the head of my p.r.i.c.k against his own and so drawing his own foreskin over it. Then I had the sovereign never to open my lips about it, and at last was confirmed."

Frank now gave Thomas a drop more brandy and asked him if he would like to be mesmerized, adding, "If you are game to let me, you will then have to answer truthfully any questions I ask and do everything I tell you."

Thomas: "Now, Mr. Frank, you are trying to get at me--as if I would believe that. I ain't afraid. You may try."

Frank: "Then look me steadily in the face, and let me hold you by your two thumbs."

Thomas: "All right, sir, but I be sure you can't make me do as you say."