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An Account of the Whippings, Rapes, and Violences that Preceded the Civil War in America

I employ the courtesan’s art of seduction

The Memoirs Of Dolly Morton (Chapter XVIII)


Jean de Villiot, The Memoirs Of Dolly Morton : The Story of A Woman’s Part in The Struggle to Free The Slaves, An Account of the Whippings, Rapes, and Violences that Preceded the Civil War in America, With Curious Anthropological Observations on the Radical Diversities In the Conformation of the Female Bottom and the Way Different Women endure Chastisement, Ed. Charles Carrington, London, Paris, 1899.

My first love; Captain Franklin’s reserve; I employ the courtesan’s art of seduction; low-necked dress and violet perfume; unwinding a skein of wool; I faint in Franklin’s arms and what happens; the violence of his attack; our mutual passion; the end of the romance.

From the day when Captain Franklin had come to the house, I had liked him, and, as I got to know him better, my feelings had gradually grown warmer until, at last, I fell in love with him. It was the first time in my life that I had felt this passion, and it took full possession of me. I always was thinking of Franklin when he was not with me. I began to want to feel his kisses on my lips, and I longed to lie in his arms. I had not disliked being poked by Randolph, for whom I had not the slightest liking therefore I could not help but think how delightful it would be to be embraced by a man whom I loved. Randolph had never cared for me; he had not scrupled to tell me that he was unfaithful to me, and, above all, he had possessed himself of me originally by most cruel means: therefore I did not consider that I was in the least way bound to be faithful to him. He certainly had given me plenty of fine clothes and a quantity of jewelry, but then—as he probably would have said himself— he had taken the value out of my body. Anyhow, I thought he had most fully.

I became quite lovesick over Franklin—or, to put it more truly, though in coarser language, I wanted very much to be poked by him. But, although he had had plenty of opportunities, he never made love to me, even in the mildest manner, and yet I felt sure that he did love me. I could not determine whether his reserve was caused by shyness or by a sense of honor which would not allow him to make advances to a defenseless woman who was quite in his power.

Three or four more days passed without his showing more warmth, and, since my «lovesickness» was increasing and there was only one cure for it, I determined to make the first advance. Randolph had instructed me well in all the little artifices by which a woman may allure a man. Thus, I decided to try the effect of one or two of them on my cold lover.

I remembered that Randolph had told me that, if a man happened to be fond of perfume, the odor of it increased his sensual desire for the woman who happened to be wearing it. Franklin liked the perfume of violets, so, that night, when I was dressing for dinner, I sprinkled my chemise and my hair with the delicate but strong essence. I then put on my finest petticoats and a pair of very dainty drawers with deep frills of lace, drawn in at the knees with bows of pale blue satin ribbon. Then I cased my legs in pink, open-work silk stockings and put on my feet a pretty pair of bronze, leather, high-heeled shoes with silver buckles. Next I made Rosa lace me tightly in my corset, and finally I put on a very low-necked frock. When I was fully dressed, I gazed at myself in the mirror, feeling perfectly satisfied with my appearance; my dress fitted me to perfection, my cheeks were tinged with a faint pink color, my eyes were bright and my bare shoulders and arms looked very white and plump.

The above details having been attended to, I went down to the drawing room, where I found Franklin. I had not seen him all day, for he had been away on military duty since early in the morning. We shook hands and I let my hand linger in his. But he did not press it, though I saw that he noticed my more than usually elaborate toilette.

The dinner passed quickly. We both were in good spirits, and we chatted and laughed merrily. When we went into the drawing room I began to exercise my arts. Seating myself on a footstool just under a lamp, I asked him to hold a tangled skein of wool for me while I wound it. To do this he would have to stand close to my knees and look down at my hands as I wound the wool.

He took up his position in the very way I wanted, and, while I moved my arms to and fro, winding the wool, I, at the same time, in an apparently unconscious manner, swayed my body so that he could, if he chose, see the upper part of my bosom and the division between my breasts.

At first he kept his eyes steadily fixed on my hands. But, after a few moments, his gaze was turned upon my half-naked bosom and I saw his eyes begin to sparkle as he looked into the depths of my corset. I smiled inwardly, saying to myself that I had at last made him show some sign of feeling. Affecting a serene unconsciousness, I continued to show my breasts and to wind the wool until it was all done. Then, putting my hand to my forehead and closing my eyes, I complained of a sudden faintness, saying that I would lie down on the sofa for a few minutes.

Franklin appeared to be very much concerned. He asked anxiously if he could get me anything. I shook my head then, rising feebly to my feet, I stood swaying about as if I were on the point of fainting.

He, thinking that I was going to fall, put his arm around my waist to hold me up. The moment he did so, I collapsed limply in his arms with my head against his breast and with my eyes closed. I ought to have turned pale, but I was not able to do that— however, it never struck him that it was strange that I should have kept my color all through my «fainting fit.»

With an ejaculation of pity, my stoic captain tenderly raised me in his arms, carried me to the sofa and laid me down upon it. I pretended to be quite insensible, but I kept my eyes half open and I had managed slyly to raise my skirts nearly up to my knees, thereby exposing my feet and legs. He then began to chafe my hands, but I saw that his eyes were fixed on my legs and I noticed that his face had become a little flushed. Opening my eyes, I now said smilingly: «Oh, I am all right. It was only a slight attack of giddiness, and it has quite passed off.» And, as I spoke, I stretched myself so as to show more of my legs and to bring into view the frills of my drawers.

Still holding one of my hands, he sat down close beside me, looking in my face most tenderly and affectionately. Taking my handkerchief from my pocket, I passed it over my forehead, then I let my hand drop, as if by accident, on the upper part of his thighs. I felt him start and I saw a soft light shining in his eyes, which were again fixed upon my legs.

Now I pressed his thighs with my fingers. Promptly his reserve disappeared. He bent down and, kissing me on the lips, said in a tone of passion: «Oh, my darling girl! I love you! I have loved you from the first day I came here!» His kiss had been a fervent one, but it had been tender. It was a kiss of love—the first I ever had received—and it made me thrill with a delicious sensation from head to foot. Throwing my arms around his neck, I exclaimed: «And I love you too. Give me another nice kiss.»

Again he kissed me on the mouth. Then, pressing his lips upon my bosom just above the edge of my dress, he inhaled the violet perfume, saying: «How sweet you are dearest. Violet is my favorite scent.»

I again closed my eyes and settled myself well down upon the sofa, feeling pretty sure that I soon would have my desire gratified. It was! Now that the ice had been broken, Franklin was no «laggard in love.» He felt my legs, praising their shape, admiring my pretty shoes and stockings and also the dainty lace frills of my drawers. Soon he put his hands up my petticoats, and, untying the strings of my drawers, pulled them down. Then his hands roved all over my bottom, and he did not neglect the «spot» between my thighs.

However, he did not waste much time in dalliance. In a moment or two he prepared himself. Then, raising my petticoats, he stretched out my legs and, opening the way with his fingers, inserted the tip of his member into the «spot,» which was ready to receive it.

Now, clasping me in his arms and pressing his lips upon my mouth, he gently but firmly forced the dart deeply into my body and with a few strong movements of his loins began to poke me in the most powerful way. He was eight years younger than Randolph, larger made and much more vigorous; the force of the attack almost took my breath away, while the size of the weapon stretched the sheath to its utmost extent.

I felt only a sensation of intense pleasure at being embraced at last by the man I loved. All my voluptuous feelings were excited to a high pitch by the friction of his large member in the folds of the sensitive «spot,» so I was not backwards in the amorous combat. Pressing him to my bosom and throwing my legs around his loins, I met each of his strong down-thrusts with a brisk upward heave of my bottom. He increased the length of his strokes, his member seemed to go deeper into me, and, as the end approached, his movements became quicker and quicker, while I bounded under him, arching my loins, sighing and groaning in an ecstasy of voluptuous pain.

At last, with a final, tremendous dig, he «spent,» while I wriggled my bottom convulsively and squirmed till I had received every drop of my lover’s offering. Then, heaving a deep sigh of gratified desire, I lay quietly in his arms while he kissed and petted me. It had been a most delightful embrace, I had never before so thoroughly enjoyed being poked. (I think that a man always enjoys poking a woman whether he loves her or not; but I am sure that a woman never really enjoys a man’s embrace unless she loves him.)

After a moment or two of kissing and soft words, Franklin withdrew his still half-stiff member from the clinging lips which were loath to let it go. Then he pulled down my clothes and buttoned his trousers. I got off the sofa, and, after arranging my disordered attire, sat in an easy chair and looked with a smile at my stalwart lover. He smiled lovingly back, and, coming to me, lifted me out of the chair. Then, sitting down in it himself, he took me on his knees and, putting his arms round my waist, held me while I nestled close up to him with my head on his breast.

After a little love talk, I told him why I had originally come to Virginia. Then I related the things which had been done to me, and how I had been forced by torture to come to Woodlands.

He was moved by my story, and, when I had finished it, he kissed me and sympathized with me. Then he said: «I am not a rich man, Dorothy, so I cannot offer you a house and luxuries such as you have here. But I love you, and, when the war is over, I will gladly take you to live with me if you will come.»

«Oh, I shall be only too delighted to go to you,» I replied earnestly. «But are you sure you really love me?»

«I do. I really love you,» he answered, kissing me affectionately on the forehead.

It delighted me to hear him say those words, and I made him repeat them. Then, nestling closer to him, I returned his kisses with interest, and, since my desire was not yet satisfied, I unbuttoned his trousers and let out the «thing» I wanted. He laughed, and, after a little play with my bottom, was ready for more action.

Maneuvering me into position on the sofa, he gave me another delicious poke. We then had a long chat, sitting side by side on the sofa. When it was bedtime, he wanted to come to my room and sleep with me, but I would not let him, for I did not want the women to know anything about my doings. So, after a long and loving kiss, we parted for the night. I must say, though, that I should have very much liked to have cuddled up to him all night «spoon fashion.»

Next morning we met in the dining room, both of us bright and cheerful. After kissing each other affectionately, we sat down to breakfast with good appetites. When the meal was over, I took my sweetheart to my favorite little arbor, which was an ideal place for love-making, and, in a short time, I was sighing in his arms.

There passed several days of quiet happiness. Franklin was constantly with me. We wandered about the garden together or sat in the arbors with our arms round each other’s waists like the fondest of lovers. And we were lovers. I think that he really did love me, and I know that I did love him.

He rogered me every day, sometime or other, and I seemed to get fonder and fonder of his embraces. They were done so vigorously and yet so decently. He always «had» me in the one position—lying on my back—and he never exposed my person more than was absolutely necessary. (I think a man copulates with the woman he loves differently from the woman he merely lusts for.) We used to talk and make plans as to what we would do in the future when the war was over and we were back in Pennsylvania. It was all very nice, and we both hoped that the fighting soon would cease, so that we might live together. In the meantime, I would have to remain at Woodlands.

But our love-making suddenly was brought to an end. Franklin received orders to withdraw his detachment from Woodlands and to return to the headquarters of his regiment. I was deeply grieved at his having to go, and he was equally grieved at having to leave me. Yet, as we both had known, the order was bound to come sooner or later, and we were resolved to make the best of it.

Next morning when we had finished breakfast, Franklin laid me on the sofa and gave me a farewell «visit.» Then, after bidding me goodbye and promising to write to me, he kissed me tenderly and left the house. I stood at the window with tears in my eyes, watching my lover at the head of his men marching down the avenue. When they reached the bend leading to the gate, Franklin turned around and waved his sword to me in a parting salute. And so ended my little romance. It had not lasted long, and I have never had another in my life so far.

(I may as well here tell you that I never saw my soldier-lover again. He was killed a year later in the battle of Cedar Mountain. At that time, I was living in New York, but I mourned for him sincerely, for I never had ceased to love him I still keep the letters he wrote me and also a lock of his hair, which he gave me the day he parted.)

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