A piece of luck. • In a dull street. • A violent step-mother. • Rosa W***e. • A runaway. • My good advice. • In the Cab. • “I’m so hungry.” • At J***s St. • Sullen, staring, and taciturn. • Fed, felt, and fucked. • The bloody chemise. • Her fears. • “You can’t set things right.” • Stern intentions. • A new night-gown. • Oysters and Champagne. • Taciturnity gone. • Making a clean breast. • Her history. • Her misfortune. • The music hall. • Liquoring after. • Drunk or drugged? • Virginity taken. • Forsaken. • Her misery, wanderings, and return home.

The law suit terminated. Well or not, matters not here. — I had been to my stock brokers, one Tuesday towards the end of October, and between three and four o’clock in the afternoon, took a fancy to wander unheeding where, thro dull, old-fashioned, brick-built streets, on the confines of the City, and was in one, in which the dwellers once perhaps were well to do people, but now was inhabited largely by small traders, and by poorish people, but there were no shops. It was a cold, damp, sunless, and misty afternoon.

Sauntering along, I heard a shrill, woman’s voice, evidently in anger; but took no notice till when near me I heard plainly, “You dirty little bitch, wait till your father comes home — ah — yer — nasty — dirty – hussy.” — Turning round, I saw a well grown, sturdy-looking girl, walking along, and behind her a middle-aged woman, who every now and then gave the girl a half push, half punch in the back. A push which quite shook her. The girl’s face was quite white, and dirty, the expression on it was stolid, dazed, almost like — that of one stupefied by a drug, or drink. She did not resist the elderly female, but walked on quickly, the woman behind her. I stood still. As they passed me, the elder said almost in the girl’s ear, “Yer dirty little beast, yer always were running after men — er — er — er,” and she gave punch after punch. I followed close on them, till they turned down a narrow court on the left, and went into one of several small houses in the court. Houses which looked as if inhabited by working people.

She’s a fine girl, and has been caught with a chap, thought I, and walking on had passed into a street of more traffic, and forgotten the girl, when she ran past me as hard as she could, and when far off and nearly out of my sight, turned down a street and I quite lost sight of her. I was walking on, when suddenly she emerged, and again ran rapidly on. I became curious, and quickened my pace. She turned down another street, and when I got there, I saw her leaning against a wall, panting, and breathless. Said I to myself, that girl’s running away. What’s her game? — Quickly I walked up to her, for some vague notion stirred my concupiscence.

“What’s the matter with you, my girl,” — I said kindly, and repeated it several times, without getting any reply. She stood breathing hard with her running, and staring at me. I saw she was handsome, pity came over me, and I told her she had better go to her home, where I had seen her followed by the woman a few minutes before. — Then she broke out violently. — “I won’t — I won’t. I’ll never go home again. — I won’t” — and her eyes glared on me, but suddenly they altered again to their stupid expression. — “What’s the matter, tell me” I said, repeating that several times, but she made no reply.

“I’ll go and fetch your mother then.” She made a half start as if to run off, but stopping herself, — “What business is it of yours? Leave me alone, who are you?” — “Go home, it’s best for you, you’ll come to harm.” — “I won’t, you go and mind your own business.” Again we stood looking at each other, I scarcely knowing what to say or do.

I noticed that her dress was neat, and very respect-able for a girl of her class, but was rumpled, and that her bonnet had been flattened, and put somewhat into shape again. She looked what may be called draggled, and the vague idea I had formed at first from the been caught with a man in an equivocal position, perhaps has been tailed, I thought. Then I looked again, and she seemed to me handsomer than she had at first, and a lust for her sprang up, but it was mixed with pity, and a firm intention to help her if I could, yet with a curiosity to find out all about her.

“Where are you going?” — I at length asked, and again had to repeat it two or three times before I got the reply. — “Nowhere — I don’t know.” — “You are going after your young man, and he’s got you into trouble.” — No reply. — “Come with me, if you won’t go home, and let us have a talk.” — She rubbed her eyes with her dirty hands, as if a tear had started, but I did not see a tear. Then, she looked at me with a stoney stare. “Now, my good girl, listen to me, — go home, go home now, or you’ll get into worse trouble.” — “I shan’t. I’d sooner drown myself,” — she said fiercely. — “Can I help you? — If you are in trouble, I will.” She answered not. — Again I advised going home — again came the enraged reply. — She’ll go wrong somehow I thought, and as well with me as an- other, and then, — “Come home with me then.”

Again a long pause, again I repeated my offer. She eyed me closely, seemed almost to be trying to look through me, her lips moved as if she was speaking, but not a sound came from them. — Tired of this, and people noticing us as we stood together, tho but few passed in the by- street, and thinking now that I was only wasting my time, I said, “Good bye if you won’t go home, and won’t come with me — I’m going” — and I turned to go. — As I turned round, — “What are you going to do, where are you going?” said she hurriedly. — “Take you to a house where we can talk comfort-ably, for we can’t stand here longer.” — “I won’t — “Good bye then.” — A pause. — “I don’t care, — said she sullenly — and she stood upright, still looking at me curiously. — “Will you come at once?” “I will.”

Side by side we walked to the larger thorough-fare. I hailed a cab, and held the door open, when with one of her feet on the step, — “You are going to take me back home,” said she, and stepped back from the cab. — I told her I would not, and in a minute we were on our road to J***s St. It was a full twenty minutes’ drive.

In the cab I asked her questions, and got nothing but yes — or no — and sometimes no reply at all. — She kept eyeing me in a strangely sullen, fixed, manner. — Now I saw she was very handsome, and my prick tingled and rose up. — I felt for the moment sure there was a man in the case, and wondered if she’d been fucked, and why the sullen mystery, and longed to put my hands up her clothes and feel her slit, yet fearing I might spoil my chance, did nothing of the sort. Then I laid my hand on her clothes outside her thigh, in a careless, friendly manner, of which she took no notice, but began staring out of the window. We passed a baker’s shop. — “Oh, give me a bit of bread or a bun, I’m so hungry,” said she in a plaintive tone. — “Hungry?” —”Yes, I’ve never had a bit in my mouth since six o’clock last night.” — “Nonsense.” — “I haven’t in-deed, sir,” — and she put her hand to her eyes again, and I saw a tear that time, but it seemed as if her tears would not flow.

“My poor girl, you shall. In five minutes I’ll give you some food.” — Directly after, I got out at a shop, bought some ham, beef, and rolls, and at *** a bottle of good sherry. In five minutes we were at J***s St., and in the room in which I first had Sarah Mavis. — It was not a busy hour there. How many times have I had fresh women in that room, I almost seem to have a property in it.

The servants have been changed many times since I first went there, but I was still well known, being frequently at the house, for I liked it, and whoever the servants for the time might have been, they soon knew me. “Get me knives and forks, plates and glasses.” “And what will you drink?” — “I’d like some ale, sir,” said the girl with a little hesitation. — Soon a tray with the needful implements was in the room, together with bottled ale. I turned out the food on to the plates, poured out the ale, and the girl began to eat ravenously, almost as if famished, but she ate and drank in silence, looking at me intently the whole time, as I sat opposite to her, pleased to see her enjoying the repast. In ten minutes she had eaten up nearly every scrap of food, of the ale she drank but moderately.

Then I brought her to the sofa, sat down besides her, and asked if she was not eighteen years old, for I had been struck whilst watching her eating, with the solid flesh about her, tho her face looked young. She said she was sixteen and a half. But still she was taciturn, and when I asked her questions, and I did many — it was always only, yes, or no, that I got in reply; and still that stolid, half sleepy, half stupid stare continued, which quite perplexed me. When she did not answer my questions at all, and several she would not answer, she stared harder than ever, and I felt quite irritated at it.

But now I began to think of getting into her, for tho I could not make her out, I felt convinced she had got in-to some scrape about a man. — Has she been stroked, or hasn’t she? kept passing through my mind, and was answered variously. — Of course it was stupid of me to think so much about those possibilities, but at the moment, I felt exactly what I write.

Then I wanted to piddle, and taking up a pot, emptied my bladder in very open fashion before her, and ex-posed my prick as much as I could — (It is a thing I always do as soon as I can before a woman, whom I want to get over.) and I asked her at the same time, — “Don’t you want to piddle, my love?” — The girl turned away her head, and blushed strongly. Her whole manner was so unmistakably modest, that I was perplexed again. It was quite clear to me, that whether she had been tailed or not, that she was not a strumpet in the least degree. With that, pity came over me, and a desire to save her from harlotry. All the weak, sentimental nonsense of my youth crowded my brain, and forgetting what I know to be the fact, that she and such as she, probably would do better, and be happier as a harlot, than as a poor work girl, if such she was; determined to get her home, and not to fuck her. — With some effort it was that I then put a bridle on my desires, and urged her going back.

All was useless — no she wouldn’t — never —. “Why?” — She wouldn’t — she would do anything else rather. — How could she, — now that she had run away? — What would be said? — I didn’t know, I re-marked. — No, and I shouldn’t know. Much in that style ran her answers and remarks, to my advice, supplication, and offer of assistance. Then I sat silent for a minute or so, wondering at the strangeness of the incident, and thinking what I should do.

Whilst sitting so, thinking and not speaking, she whined out, — “Oh, I’m so tired and sleepy.” — My lust came on strongly at once on hearing that. “Lie down then,” — and I put her upon the ample sofa, got her legs up, and into the exact position to begin amorous preliminaries. But I felt strangely nervous at my intentions. I can’t understand now how it was so. It must have been her modest manner and looks, which made me hesitate, for I did. Then I put my arms round her neck and tried to cuddle her, and after a little restiveness, she let my arm lay there, whilst I sat on the sofa’s edge, half turning toward her. Then all was impulse, under the pressure of love, lust, sexual want, the need of emptying the sperm out of my balls, or whatever the mainspring may have been. She was evidently sleepy and weary, and again gave me the impression of being half stupefied. — Then all at once, Is she quite right in her head? I wondered.

“You’ll give me a kiss now,” and kissing her, she re-turned it, but hesitatingly. I kissed on for she was nice, my fondling began to soothe her, and I asked her to tell me why she had run away. Then she became again taciturn. “No — it is no good telling.” — “I guess why your mother beat you so.” — “She’s not my mother — mine’s dead — it’s father’s second wife, and I hate her.” — “She caught you with your sweetheart.” — “No she ain’t.” — “She has, and he’s put it in there,” and I poked her clothes between her thighs. “He’s done it to you, put his prick in your cunt, and she’s found it out.” Whilst saying this and kissing her, I put my hand rapidly up her clothes and touched her thighs. She firmly closed them and yelled out. “Oh, now — don’t sir — pray. — Oh, don’t you.” — “Non-sense, my darling, I’m sure you’ve been fucked, now haven’t you?”

She struggled, but could not rise, for I had her down, leant over her kissing, and feeling, till I got my fore-finger on to her clitoris, and looking along sideways, saw that my arm had lifted her clothes above her knees, and that her stockings and under linen looked clean. — Then my cock stiffened hard. I told her of it, and rubbed on her clitoris gently tho with difficulty, so close did she keep her thighs. But lewed talk, and the slow friction was telling on her. “Now let me feel it properly, love, and I’ll give you such pleasure.” But she crossed her ankles, and her thighs pinched together tighter than ever, and she positively trembled, saying at each stage of my fingering progress, — “Oh — Oh — don’t now — leave off,” — in a perfectly modest manner.

I took my hand away, pulled out my engine and whilst doing so, saw her face was again scarlet. It had been unnaturally white. “Look here, my love, now let me have you.” — She fixed her eyes on it, again made no reply, and her lips moved as if speaking, just as they had done but without utterance, when in the street with me. Then with a rush I pulled up the clothes to her belly, saw the slight hair on her motte, and before she could prevent me, my lips were upon it and kissing it, whilst my hands prevented her pushing her clothes down. — With a sharp cry of modesty and fear, she pushed the clothes over my head, and energetically with hands, backside, and legs, tried to dislodge me. But this was for a second or two only. Then she laid perfectly tranquil, and let me do pretty well as I liked, in a sullen, resigned sort of way.

After a minute’s kissing, I drew my head gently away, and pushing her petticoats up with my hands, had a momentary look at her motte and thighs, and saw much blood on her chemise. Astonished, I looked at her, and saw tears running down her cheeks, but she made no noise, and in a leisurely way pushed her petticoats down. — “There’s blood on your chemise,” — said I. “Hoh,” — said she, sharply but sulkily. — “You are either poorly or we fucked today for the first time.” Her whole history seemed to be known to me at once. — She never answered, but struggling, sat up, and I by the side of her.

Now I kissed, and kissed her, without hindrance. “Tell me all about it, my darling.” — But she would not — even when my fingers were on her quim, which she now permitted there, but in a way which seemed as if she thought it hopeless to try to prevent me. — “Your face is so dirty, look,” — indeed it had become like that of a dirty, blubbering child. — “Get up and see,” — getting up and looking in the glass. — “So it is

— may I wash it.” — “Wash yourself all over, my love.” — I poured out water for her, she washed, and brushed her hair, and then was a very handsome girl.

— “Shall I wash your cunt for you.” — “Hoh —if ever I heard such a thing,” said she, quite startled, and she coloured again. Then she sat down, and tears came into her eyes, which she let me kiss away, sitting by the side of her with my prick not now stiff, yet swollen, and dangling before her. I kept it out intentionally.

— She sat sullen, silent, staring at the fire, evidently thinking, and taking no notice of my tool.

I was getting impatient for results, though my lewed courting was pleasant enough. — “Have a glass of wine,” said I, opening the bottle. — Without a word she took one, and then another quickly. Still she was unsociable, tho now looking at me, instead of at the fire, but she seemed to take no notice of my prick. — I began pulling up her clothes. — She resisted. “Come on to the bed, dear.” — “No, I won’t.” — I tried to pull her up from the sofa, but she resisted that violently.

“What nonsense, I shall leave you if you won’t. So put on your bonnet, for they won’t let you stop without me, and where are you going then?” — “I don’t know.” — “Then don’t be foolish, take off your things, and let’s get into bed together, I’m sure you’ve been fucked. — Come, dear.” — She sat without movement, and I sat down again beside her. Soon after, she let me pull her back on the sofa, and begin feeling her thighs. Then I got to her cunt and began frigging her, half laying on the sofa beside her. “I’m so sleepy,” — said she again, and her eyes seemed closing and her face assumed the stupid expression, which I first had noticed in her. Was this all sham? — passed through my mind.

Kissing, coaxing, rubbing gently through thighs tightly closed again, on a scarcely perceptible clitoris, asking her all the time to come to the bed with me, and getting no reply, I again rose. — “If you won’t, I shall go, for if you stay with me here all night, we are going to sleep together. If you won’t, let us go, and I’ll leave you where you like.” — “Oh, don’t — don’t.” — “Well, you can go home.” — “I won’t.” — “What will you do?” — “Don’t know, and don’t care, drown myself,” — said she in the same sullen, determined manner, yet with a sob as if choking with suppressed emotion. — “Don’t be foolish then, and let me do what I want.” Then I sat down again on the sofa, and without hindrance began frigging and kissing her as before. All was now quiet. At length voluptuous feeling came over her, as I knew by her manner (for I have frigged many women now), and that she was half way to a spend. “Come to bed love, take off some of your things. — We will sleep together tonight, and I will see what’s best to be done for you tomorrow.” She made no reply, nor looked at me even.

I pulled her up from the sofa, and standing, began undoing her frock. — She neither helped nor resisted, till the last petticoat was reached. — “Oh — no, nothing more,” said she with a start, and stopping me. — “No, don’t — oh, don’t — pray don’t,” said she quite touchingly and feebly. She put her hands down, pre-venting me from pulling up her chemise. — It struck me instantly, that she wanted to hide its condition. Was she a maid, or had she been fucked? — Modest she certainly was, and even distressed at what I was doing. — Was she poorly? — all this passed through my mind. I inclined to the belief she was virgin, but she was mysterious. My prick was standing. I was irritated by delay and impatient for a treat. — “Get on the bed, dear — stop — I’ll pull off your boots,” and did. — On the bed she got slowly, and turned away from me, putting her hand to her head. Stripping myself rapidly to my shirt, I was by her side in a minute.

I cuddled her, kissed her rapturously, my fingers on her cunt, frigging it gently. She lay unresisting, silent, with eyes closed. Then my fingers sought the pas-sage for my prick, and burrowing with difficulty between tightly closed thighs, as she lay half on her side facing me, I could not reach the tube. Then, pressing her gently with my body, I got her more on to her back, and inserted my fingers roughly between her thighs. “Oh — ah — oho — don’t” she murmured. — “Let me, love,” and I pushed, and titillated, till she sighed. — Is she virgin? — Conjecture was over the next second, as her thighs opened, and my finger went up her vagina. Then impatiently pressing her body with mine, she turned on her back, I on her belly, I felt her an instant, and guided my prick, and without obstacle it glided slowly up a tight cunt. Grasping her buttocks fiercely as I felt the lodgement, I fucked her with strong impulse to empty my semen in her. My God! What delight I felt, as faint murmurs of pleasure came from the dear girl’s lips, which I stifled with my kisses, as her sheath tightened, and my prick shed a torrent of sperm in her clipping little cunt, and her body and backside writhed in the pleasure of her spending.

What delicious thoughts crept through my brain, as the pleasure in my prick subsided, and the soft, enervating, voluptuous sensation pervaded me, which follow the discharge of one’s sperm. She seemed to me divine, her cunt perfection, and she had spent with me. But her cunt had been pierced. — Was it her first spend? — Who’s fucked before? — Thinking of such things, gradually I slipped off of her, and my prick left her cunt. I heard a snore. She was fast asleep, and the next instant I was asleep by the side of her, and slept for an hour or more.

When I awakened, there she lay in a profound sleep. She had not stirred an inch from the position in which she had been fucked, but was on her back with thighs slightly apart. — I leant over and kissed her, she did not move a muscle, and gently I pulled down the bed clothes. Her chemise was up above her motte, but it lay beneath her bum. I saw on it, and just where it naturally would have issued from her cunt, patches of blood and semen, dry. There was unmistakably se-men and blood in patches here and there as well, and instantly I felt convinced that she had been fucked the previous night, and that her mother had found her out. Or were her courses on?

I pulled her chemise about, for the traces of seminal discharge and sanguinary evidences delighted me. Baudy possibilities in wonderful variety came through my mind. I got out of bed and stood looking at her thighs and cunt. I kissed her belly, slightly pulled apart the cunt-lips, and did all quietly and tenderly, but it was enough to have awakened any woman in ordinary sleep. At last I pulled one thigh away from the other, and slowly put my middle finger up her cunt, felt it full of sperm, and smooth, and found no redness on my finger. There she lay still as if dead, at times snoring in a most profound sleep. Two gas jets were brightly burning in the room.

My prick stood stiff again, as I felt the firm, white, round, handsome thighs, and saw the pretty cunt, with the merest sign of red separating the lips and the soft chestnut coloured hairs, curling round the top of the split, and scarcely further. Tiptoeing, I put my prick against her thigh. What voluptuous whims come across me. How delicious and how harmless to satisfy them. Then I began playing with her clitoris, which was all but visible.

I have done that to many when asleep. — I like to arouse sexual want in a sleeping beauty as she lies by my side, but don’t recollect anytime, at which I have stood by the bedside, and done it whilst the woman lay with the light of two gas burners on to her. Gently, so gently I frigged, watching the girl’s face, my fingers scarcely moved, they touched the sensitive little red button so gently. I frigged long without affecting her. Suddenly, I then saw her white face flush quite redly. I never noticed that before, in any woman whom I frigged in her sleep, that I can remember. Her thighs twitched and moved, then her hand went down to her cunt, her eyes opened sleepily, and she laid hold of my hand. — “Who are you? — Oh!” — and she sat up, then fell back again with eyes closed for a second. Then she realized her position, and saying, “It’s a shame,” — pushed her chemise over her cunt.

In a minute I was telling her all I had seen, and done. “It’s nonsense, darling, I’ve seen all, I know you’ve been fucked before — haven’t you? — let me see again, I will,” — and I pulled up her chemise, laid my head on her belly covering her navel with it, and inserted a finger in her lubricious cunt. Then I rose to her face, and kissed and kissed, and frigged all the time, and harder, till she pushed my hand away. Then I knew that lust was on her, and at once mounted her. She opened her thighs, but she had never uttered a word, and her eyes were always fixed on me.

Up the well lubricated, tight little cunt, my prick glided, and there it rested long, whilst I talked baudy, and asked lewed questions, looking in her face, and every now and then giving a hard ram of my prick, to make her cunt know its size, and vigour, and probe it to its innermost depths. Soon, at each thrust she sighed. Then with all my art, and skill, and force, I fucked and fucked, thinking of her pleasure more than of my own; till I felt her clasping me, and with the instinct of her sex, giving that involuntary clutch on my naked loins, which all the dear creatures give, as their pleasure in-creases, and soon, in a spasm of bliss, prick and cunt were shedding their juices in loving harmony.

She slept again at once. I did not, but lay thinking about what I knew. — My curiosity was now greater than ever, but still feeling pleasure, my prick lingered in her long. — Then I began to want food. It was seven o’clock, and it so happened that a biscuit had been my only lunch. I had no clothes for change, and was expected home. So I got out of bed, and said I must leave her for a couple of hours, would dine, get my things and return. She sprang up like a jack in the box. — “Oh, don’t you go. — Why do you? — What shall I do? They will turn me out perhaps.” — “Nonsense, love.” — “But they did this morning.” — “Where, — when — why?” I asked. — She fell back on the bed, would make no reply, and began to sob.

I talked, comforted her, allayed her fears, told her she had only to wait my return, that I was well known there. Calling the chambermaid, I told her I was leaving for two hours, should then be back and stop the night, and that she was to lend, or to buy me a night-gown for the lady. — The girl listened with dilated eyes, looking first at me, then at the servant, and got out of bed as soon as the servant had left, walked up and down uneasily for a minute, and then asked if she might speak to the servant.

Accustomed to the ways and wants of women, it struck me at once what she wanted. She had never piddled since she had been with me. — “You want the water-closet, don’t you.” — “Yes sir,” said she faintly. — I got the maid to show her where it was, first telling the girl to put her dress loosely over her, and neither to speak to, nor answer any questions to anyone. She came back looking quite ashamed. — I was then dressed, and telling her to wash her cunt, and get into bed, I pulled off her petticoat (spite of her) and telling her on no account to open the door, nor to answer any-one, I left, after hearing the bolt of the door shot, and paying thirty shillings for the room.

Taking a cab home, and saying I was going to stop with a friend, I brought away in a small portmanteau all the clothes needed, dined at my club, and in the two his balls, as the chemise showed. Before that day was out, Rosa and I talked it over, both looking at the chemise together, for I have a faculty of upsetting quickly any woman’s modesty. Besides, a night’s fucking at once alters any woman’s feelings and behaviour towards the man who spermatised her cunt, and gave her sexual pleasure. Fucking is the great humaniser of the world. hours, was back at J***s Street. The night-gown was ready. I knocked at the door several times before I got a sleepy answer. — “Who is it?” — “It is I.” — “Is it you?” — “Yes, it’s the gentleman,” said the maid who was behind me, and then shouted down-stairs. — “Wait a minute, sir, in the parlour.” (How well I knew those words.) — The door opened, and there was I with her for the night. I felt joyous, there was such an air of intrigue about the affair. My curiosity about the girl was intense, and I thought now more of hearing all about her, than about fucking her.

I made her put on the night-gown. She wanted to hide her chemise, but I showed that I was master, examined it before her, and made my remarks in the plainest words about its condition; holding it to the light, and looking and laughing. “I wonder if his prick hurt you, tell me dear. How often did he do it — was his prick large? — do tell me” — and so I went on. She never smiled, nor answered, nor moved a muscle: but sat looking at me fixedly. She seemed an odd one — no other in all my amatory acquaintances behaved a bit like her.

Then I drew her on to the sofa, pulled off her stockings, and undressing to my shirt, sat with naked bum on my naked thigh, and with fingers on her cunt twiddling it, began coaxing, and begging her to tell me all. I could get nothing out of her, and her taciturnity annoyed me. Angrily I said I should stay the night, but unless she had confidence in me should leave her next morning. That opened her mouth a little. — “What’s the good of telling you my misfortune? You can’t set it to rights, but my name is Rosa W***e.”

I replied that perhaps I might, and at all events might prevent worse befalling her. At length she said, “Perhaps I will, but I’m so sleepy and tired.” — “Didn’t you sleep last night?” — “I never wakened all the night till I got up.” — “Tell me then, how it all happened.” — She shook her head, and lapsed into taciturnity.

A couple of hours passed in chat, looking at her, feeling her plump young body all over, which she now permitted in a shrinking, resigned sort of way, and struggling with her when I wanted to expose her belly. Then ‘I asked if she liked oysters. “Oh, don’t I,” said she vivaciously. It was the only spark of interest I had seen. “Champagne?” “I never tasted any.” — I made them bring Champagne from a place I named, and a bill to show they got it from there. — Oysters were brought. — Well I recollect the first time I had them in that house with Louisa Fisher. The girl eat them with pleasure, Champagne she drank, first remarking that she ought perhaps never to drink a glass of wine or spirits, as long as she lived. Then when I asked why, she only shook her head. She got livelier soon, and actually at one of my remarks laughed. Then getting from the chambermaid candles and lucifers, for I knew they turned off the gas at about three o’clock, I said we would go to bed, and, “Show me now your dear little cunt.”

She resisted, and burst out crying and sobbing, tears ran now fast enough, but not for long, tho the sobs lasted and were violent. I can’t bear to see a female in distress, so desisted. “Shall we go to bed then, Rosa, and fuck again?” — I loved to say that word, it seemed to upset her so. — “If you like,” — said she, colouring up. “Another glass of Champagne then,” — and sitting her on my naked knees again, so that her flesh touched mine, we drank. I begged her to tell me all, or I shouldn’t know what to do for her, for I could not stop with her long. — “It’s no good telling,” — was all I could get out of her. She wouldn’t feel my prick tho I put her hand to it. — So putting out one gas burner, and turning down the other, into bed we went.

There she lay close to me. I put my finger up her cunt. — She winced, and in reply said, “It hurts a little only now.” — “You’ve washed.” “Yes, when you went out.” “Fucking gave you pleasure, didn’t it? — Now say. What stupidity to be silent, tell me.” — “Yes.” — said she at last. At length cuddling to me, she admitted she’d been fucked the night before, and never before. She didn’t know how it came about. She was drunk she supposed, and that was all she would say. — We fucked again and fell fast asleep.

I was awakened at times by the noise of amorous couples. She slept and snored all night profoundly, a lethargic sleep, and was fast asleep when I awakened her at about ten next morning. — I opened the blinds, let in light, and saw that she looked fresh and well, and had quite a different expression on her face, but the face had strong resolve in it. My fingers went to her cunt, I placed hers on my prick and again saw that she coloured up. — “You want to piddle.” No answer, and I got angry. “What nonsense, my dear, your naked belly’s been against mine, my fingers on your cunt, I’ve fucked you and yet you seem ashamed to piddle, now get out and do it, for it’s all sham modesty.” Out I got and pissed. — “There is the pot.” — “I don’t want.” — “I’m sure you do, after the ale and Champagne you drank. I’ll look through the blinds.” Rosa got out and half filled the pot. Then in the bed I fucked out a healthy, copious, morning’s emission. Afterwards I talked seriously about her future. — I had once or twice felt sorry I had brought her here, thinking that had she been left to herself, she might, when still more weary and hungry, have gone home again. — Now I suggested her going home, — told her how to act — what to tell — and that I would give her money. — “No” — nothing should make her go home again. — “You will go on the streets then.” — She made no reply to that. I went on advising, and after saying that if she did not tell me all, I really must leave her, she burst into tears, laid her head against my chest, and told me all.

Few women tell their escapades clearly and consecutively, but she told the most important part of her misfortune, as she termed it, quite coherently. Other parts were given in answer to my questions, and I firmly believe, truly given.

Her Father, a smith by trade, and a W***e by name, had married a second wife, and Rosa and she didn’t agree. Rosa had learnt stay- making, but grew tired of it, so went to service, grew tired of that also, or didn’t like her place, and had been home a week doing nothing but help in their lodgings, and do needle-work. — A friend of hers and her sweetheart were going to a mu-sic hall, and Rosa with her father’s consent went with them. There they met a young man of their own class in life, who paid attention to Rosa. All four had drink there. When they came out they had more drink at a public house. Her female friend suggested that the new acquaintance should see Rosa home, she going off with her sweetheart. All were seemingly a little screwed, and the couples separated in great jollity. Then the young man, Rosa said, “Made love to me, but nothing improper.” They had some more liquor at a public house, and when she came out she staggered, and felt she was drunk. She was frightened about getting home late. He said he would see her home safely, but she scarcely knew why, or how, she found herself in a bed room with him, and felt so sleepy that she couldn’t keep her eyes open, or even stand, and he laid her on the bed.

Up to that time, she was sure he had taken no liberties with her, now he pulled up her clothes. She recollected struggling with him, that she saw his prick out, and the next minute that with a pain to her, something went up her cunt. She was laying at the side of the bed, but all was so confused that she could tell no more. How she got undressed she knew not, but she did, and was in bed with him in the morning, and in the night she thought he did it to her again, but was not sure. — She neither recollected pain or pleasure; only some-thing heavy on her, and something in the cunt, and nothing more till the next morning, when with a sense of stupidity she awakened, and saw him dressing.

Then, still half asleep and stupid, she became conscious of her “misfortune.” He said he must get to his work, told her he had paid for the room and left. She immediately fell asleep again, and was awakened by the coffee-house keeper about eleven o’clock. She got up and dressed somehow, and asked for a cup of tea. He asked if she had money to pay for it. — She had not a farthing, and it ended in his saying that she couldn’t stop there any longer, and she was turned out into the street at midday, dizzy and stupid, unable to think or to go home. She wandered about for a couple of hours, till she found herself at the steps of one of the bridges. She sat down on them, and then thought she would drown herself.

Then she determined to go to a friend, a woman who knew her and her family. There she told she had been out all night, walking about, and was frightened to go home, but told nothing more. The woman sent for the stepmother, who fetched, punched, and abused her all the way home. She was ashamed to look the neighbours in the face, tho still half stupid with the drink or the drug she had had the night before. Stepmother, when in their lodgings, threatened her with all sorts of vengeance, went out to fetch the father, and left her, as she thought, locked up in the kitchen, but in her anger made a mistake, did not lock the door properly, and as soon as she had gone off, Rosa bolted, ran past me, and the rest has been already written.

I questioned her closely about this affair, and her previous habits and life. Was questioning her all that day, and much of the following night, indeed scarcely talked about anything else, and feel convinced I had the truth. The girl had either been made completely drunk, or had been drugged — drugged did not seem probable, yet was possible, and I incline to the belief that she had been drugged, and that her friends who introduced the young man, knew certainly that he would be at the music hall. It seemed to me a cruel case. However that might be, I was certain that Rosa had been fucked for the first time on that night, that the sperm and blood on her chemise marked the sacrifice of her virginity, and that my prick had gone up the same channel, unwashed since the lucky young man left his sperm in it. A good lot he must have put out of his balls, as the chemise showed. Before that day was out, Rosa and I talked it over, both looking at the chemise together, for I have a faculty of upsetting quickly any woman’s modesty. Besides, a night’s fucking at once alters any woman’s feelings and behaviour towards the man who spermatised her cunt, and gave her sexual pleasure. Fucking is the great humaniser of the world.