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Having all of them felt her arse in turn, pinching it as though to test its condition, much as a connoisseur in horseflesh would walk around an animal he was about to buy, Monsignor at length said - 'What a superb picture.' His eyes were nearly bursting from their sockets. 'You must really excuse me, gentlemen, but my feelings overcome me,' and taking his comely prick out of his breeches, he deliberately walked up to Madeline, and before that fair damsel had guessed his intentions, he had thrown her down on the companion couch to Lucy's and had fucked her heart out in a shorter space of time than it takes me to write it.
To witness this was unutterably maddening. I scarcely knew what to be at; my heart beat wildly, and I should then and there have put myself into Lucy had I not been restrained by Father Boniface who, arch-vagabond that he was, took the whole business as a matter of course and merely observed to Monsignor that it would be as well to get it over as soon as possible, since Mr Clinton was in a devil of a hurry.
Poor Lucy was deriving some consolation from Dr Price in the shape of a few drops of Pinero Balsam in champagne, while as for De Vaux, he was groaning audibly, and when the worthy Father Peter came to the short strokes De Vaux's chordee became so unbearable that he ran violently out into Monsignor's bedroom, as he afterwards informed me, to bathe his balls in ice water.
To me there was something rather low and shocking in a fuck before witnesses, but that is a squeamishness that I have long since got the better of.
Madeline, having wiped Monsignor's prick with a piece of mousseline de lame, a secret known only to the sybarite in love's perfect secrets, retired, presumably to syringe her fanny, and Monsignor buttoned up and approached his self-imposed task. Taking off his coat he turned up his short cuffs and, Boniface handing him the birch rods, the bum-warming began.
At the first keen swish poor Lucy shrieked out, but before half a dozen had descended with a quick smacking sound which betokens that there is no lack of elbow grease in the application, her groans subsided, and she spoke in a quick strained voice, begging for mercy.
'For the love of God,' she said, 'do not, pray do not lay it on so strong.'
By this time her lovely arse had assumed a flushed, vermilion tinge, which appeared to darken with every stroke, and at this point Dr Price interposed.
'Enough, Monsignor, now my duty begins.' And quick as thought he placed upon her bottom a piece of linen, which was smeared with an unguent, and stuck it at the sides with a small modicum of tar plaster to prevent it from coming off
'Oh!' cried Lucy, 'I feel so funny. Oh! Mr Clinton, if you are there, pray relieve me, and make haste.'
In an instant my trousers were down, the straps were unbuckled, and Lucy was gently turned over on her back.
I saw a delicate bush of curly hair, a pair of glorious thighs, and the sight impelled me to thrust my prick into that divine Eden I had visited but a short time before with an ardour that for a man who had lived a fairly knockabout life was inexplicable.
I had scarcely got it thoroughly planted, and had certainly not made a dozen well-sustained though rapid strokes, before the gush of sperm which she emitted drew me at the same instant, and I must own that I actually thought the end of the world had come.
'Now,' said Dr Price, rapidly writing in his pocket-book, 'you see that my theory was correct. Here is a maid who has never known a man and she spends within ten seconds of the entrance being effected. Do you suppose that without the birching she could have performed such a miracle?'
'Yes,' I said, 'I do, and I can prove that all your surmises are but conjecture, and that even your conjecture is based upon a fallacy.'
Bravo,' said Father Peter, 'I like to see Price fairly collared. Nothing flabbergasts him like facts. Dear me, how damnation slangy I am getting tonight. Lucy, dear, don't stand shivering there, slip on your things and join Madeline in my snuggery; we shall all be there presently. Go on, Clinton.'
'Well,' I said, 'it is easy enough to refute the learned doctor. In the first place Lucy was not a maid.'
'That be dammed for a tale,' said Father Boniface. 'I got her mother to let me examine her myself last night while she was asleep, previous to handing over the hundred pounds.'
'Yes, that I can verify,' said Monsignor, 'though I must admit that you have a prick like a kitchen poker, for you got into her as easy as though she'd been on a Regent Street round for twenty years.'
'I will bet anyone here fifty to one,' I said, quietly taking out my pocket-book, 'that she was not a maid before I poked her just now.'
'Done,' said the doctor who, upon receiving a knowing wink from Father Peter, felt sure he was going to bag two ponies, 'and now how are we to prove it?'
'Ah, that will be difficult,' said Monsignor.
'Not at all,' I observed, 'let the young lady be sent for and questioned on the spot where you assume she was first deflowered of her virginity.'
'Yes, that's fair,' said De Vaux, and accordingly he called her in. 'My dear Lucy,' said Monsignor, 'I wish you to tell me the truth in answer to a particular question I am about to put to you.
'I certainly will,' said Lucy, 'for God knows I have literally nothing now to conceal from you.'
'Well, that's not bad for a double entente,' said the Father, laughing, 'but now tell us candidly, before Mr Clinton was intimate with you in our presence just now, had you ever before had a similar experience?'
'Once,' said Lucy, simpering and examining the pattern of the carpet.
'Good God,' said the astonished churchman, as with deathlike silence he waited for an answer to his next question - 'When was it and with whom?'
'With Mr Clinton himself, in the drawing-room here, about an hour ago.
I refused the money of course, but had the laugh on all of them, and as we rolled home to De Vaux's chambers in a hansom about an hour later I could not help admitting to him that I considered the evening we had passed through the most agreeable I had ever known.
'You will soon forget it in the midst of other pleasures.'
'Never,' I said. 'If Calais was graven on Mary's heart, I am quite sure that this date will be found inscribed on mine if ever they should hold an inquest upon my remains.'