{"id":1492,"date":"2022-08-21T17:11:27","date_gmt":"2022-08-21T17:11:27","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1492"},"modified":"2022-09-18T16:00:46","modified_gmt":"2022-09-18T16:00:46","slug":"volume-four-chapter-eight","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1492","title":{"rendered":"Volume Four Chapter Eight"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t<div data-elementor-type=\"wp-page\" data-elementor-id=\"1492\" class=\"elementor elementor-1492\" data-elementor-settings=\"[]\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-section-wrap\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<section class=\"elementor-section elementor-top-section elementor-element elementor-element-d84d2c6 elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"d84d2c6\" data-element_type=\"section\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-container elementor-column-gap-default\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-column elementor-col-50 elementor-top-column elementor-element elementor-element-7b8829a\" data-id=\"7b8829a\" data-element_type=\"column\">\n\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-wrap elementor-element-populated\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-3fbc678 elementor-widget elementor-widget-html\" data-id=\"3fbc678\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"html.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t<iframe loading=\"lazy\" src=\"https:\/\/open.spotify.com\/embed\/album\/3JazVp5MlUvhCvxOAJ7uX5\" width=\"300\" height=\"380\" frameborder=\"0\" allowtransparency=\"true\" allow=\"encrypted-media\"><\/iframe>\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-column elementor-col-50 elementor-top-column elementor-element elementor-element-83df244\" data-id=\"83df244\" data-element_type=\"column\">\n\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-wrap elementor-element-populated\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-6802b01 elementor-widget elementor-widget-html\" data-id=\"6802b01\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"html.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t<iframe loading=\"lazy\" src=\"https:\/\/open.spotify.com\/embed\/album\/5K5GlqF2t5KkhLobP6A09q\" width=\"300\" height=\"380\" frameborder=\"0\" allowtransparency=\"true\" allow=\"encrypted-media\"><\/iframe>\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<section class=\"elementor-section elementor-top-section elementor-element elementor-element-6c7deec elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"6c7deec\" data-element_type=\"section\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-container elementor-column-gap-default\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-column elementor-col-100 elementor-top-column elementor-element elementor-element-62499c9\" data-id=\"62499c9\" data-element_type=\"column\">\n\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-wrap elementor-element-populated\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-b85afd6 elementor-widget elementor-widget-text-editor\" data-id=\"b85afd6\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"text-editor.default\">\n\t\t\t\t<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<section class=\"elementor-section elementor-top-section elementor-element elementor-element-8258751 elementor-section-boxed elementor-section-height-default elementor-section-height-default\" data-id=\"8258751\" data-element_type=\"section\">\n<div class=\"elementor-container elementor-column-gap-default\">\n<div class=\"elementor-column elementor-col-100 elementor-top-column elementor-element elementor-element-5441096\" data-id=\"5441096\" data-element_type=\"column\">\n<div class=\"elementor-widget-wrap elementor-element-populated\">\n<div class=\"elementor-element elementor-element-ae45d7c elementor-widget elementor-widget-text-editor\" data-id=\"ae45d7c\" data-element_type=\"widget\" data-widget_type=\"text-editor.default\">\n<div class=\"elementor-widget-container\">\n<div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 694\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p><b>VOLUME 4 CHAPTER 8<\/b><\/p>\n<p>The next day. \u2022 At the Tower. \u2022 In tears. \u2022 \u201cThe wretch is married.\u201d \u2022 At T***f***d Street. \u2022 After dinner. \u2022 On the chamber-pot. \u2022 My wishes refused. \u2022 An attack. \u2022 Against the bed. \u2022 A stout resistance. \u2022 I threaten to leave her. \u2022 Tears and supplications. \u2022 On the sofa. \u2022 Reluctant consent. \u2022 A half- virgin.<\/p>\n<p>Next day she met me early, and we drove to the Tower. On the road I instructed her what to do when there (it was full six miles off). I tried my best to get her passions up in a delicate way, but amatory fingerings I avoided whilst the poor woman was in search of her lover. The feeling of each other\u2019s privates on the previous night, had opened her heart to me. She let out a little more of the history of her escapade with the soldier, and asked my advice how to act in certain eventualities, which could only be applicable to a woman who had been rogered. She was painfully anxious as she approached the Tower. I stopped in the cab just in sight of the entrance, and after instructing her care-fully again who to ask for, and what to do, in she went.<\/p>\n<p>In half an hour she came back with wet swollen eyes, got into the cab, and began to bellow loudly. The cab-man had opened the door for her, and stood waiting for orders. For a few seconds I could get nothing out of her, then told the cabman to drive to a public house near. There I gave her gin, but still could learn nothing. All she said was, \u201cOh! such a vagabond!\u201d Into the cab again. I told the man where to drive to, for I had laid my plans. \u201cTell me, \u2014 it\u2019s not fair after all the trouble I\u2019ve taken to not tell me,\u201d \u2014 sob \u2014 sob \u2014 sob. Soon after it all came in a gush. \u201cYes he was there, that is, he was two days ago,\u201d but the regiment had gone to Dublin, and wouldn\u2019t be back for eighteen months, \u2014 a letter would be sent him of course, but his wife would be there in a day, for \u2014 \u201cOh! \u2014 hoh! \u2014 hoh! \u2014 the wretch is a married man, and he\u2019s deceived me.\u201d \u201cYou should not have let him do it.\u201d \u201cI didn\u2019t mean to.\u201d \u201cYou let him do it more than once I\u2019ll swear.\u201d \u201cHe did it twice to me, when in the house, \u2014 he swore he\u2019d marry me three days after, if I let him, \u2014 and so I d \u2014 did, \u2014 ho! \u2014 her \u2014 ho!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 695\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p>Thus I heard in snatches the whole history, which she told me more plainly afterwards. She had been fucked twice on the eventful night, once on the ground in a lane, and once in a bed-room.<\/p>\n<p>I drove to T***f***d Street where I used to meet Mrs. Y***s***e. It was not much more than mid-day. I got a comfortable little sitting-room, out of which was a large bed-room. A dinner was sent in by an Italian restaurant close by. After her first grief had subsided, the wine cheered her, and she made a good dinner, talking all the time of her \u201cmisfortune.\u201d When we had finished for a while I sat caressing her. Then I said, \u201cI want to piddle,\u201d and pulling my prick out before her went into the bed-room and pissed.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDon\u2019t you want to?\u201d \u201cNo.\u201d \u201cNonsense, \u2014 do you suppose I don\u2019t know? \u2014 now go.\u201d She went into the bed-room. I quietly opened the door ajar directly she had closed it. There was she sitting on the pot, one leg naked, adjusting her garter, and pissing hard.<\/p>\n<p>Then raising her clothes that side she scratched her backside in a dreamy fashion, looking up at the walls. The rattle of her piddle went on. She had been out all the morning, had had gin and champagne, and her bladder must have been full. The side she scratched was towards me. She finished piddling, but still she sat scratching her rump. Then rising she turned round, looked in the pot, put it under the bed, pushed her clothes between her thighs, and looking round saw me at the half-opened door. She gave a start, I rushed up to her.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat lovely thighs, \u2014 what a splendid bum\u201d (though I hadn\u2019t seen it). \u201cWhat a shame, \u2014 you\u2019ve been looking at me.\u201d \u201cYes my darling, \u2014 what a lot you have pissed, \u2014 what a bum, \u2014 I saw you scratch it, \u2014 let\u2019s feel it, \u2014 I did last night, and you know what you felt.\u201d I got my hands on to her naked thighs, pushing her bum up against the bedside.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat a shame to think you have been looking, leave me alone, \u2014 pray do, \u2014 now you shan\u2019t, \u2014 no \u2014 you sh \u2014 han\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>I closed with her. I had pulled my stiff-stander out. I shook it at her. \u201cLook at this my darling, let me put it in you, \u2014 up your cunt.\u201d \u201cNo, \u2014 leave off, \u2014 I won\u2019t, \u2014 I won\u2019t, \u2014 I have had enough of you men, you shan\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 696\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p>For a long time the game went on, I begging her to let me have her, she refusing. We struggled and almost fought. Twenty times I got her clothes up to her belly, my hand between her thighs. I groped all round her firm buttocks, and pinched them, grasped her cuntwig, and pulled it till she cried out. All the devices I had used with others, all I could think of, I tried in vain. Then I ceased pulling up her clothes; but hugging her to me besought her, kissing and coaxing, keeping one of her hands down against my prick, which she would not feel, but it was useless. Then stooping and again pulling up her petticoats, letting loose every baudy word that came into my mind, \u2014 and I dare say the choicest words, \u2014 I threw myself on my knees, and butting my head like a goat up her petticoats, got my mouth on to her cunt, and felt her clitoris on my lips; but I could not move her. She was far stronger than me. Then rising I tried to lift and shove her on to the bed. I might as well have tried to lift the bed itself. I tried to drag her towards a large sofa, big enough for two people to lay side by side, and made for easy fucking. All was useless. Her weight and her strength were such that I could not move her. There she stood with her backside against the edge of the bed, her hair getting loose, one of her stockings pulled by me down her ankle, and the upper part of her dress torn open, but no, she would not let me. She was frightened, \u2014 she would not, \u2014I was as bad as the soldier. In the excitement she no longer cared about her legs showing to her knees, but her cunt she fought for, and get my prick against it I could not.<\/p>\n<p>So we struggled I don\u2019t know how long, and then breathless, fatigued, I got into a violent rage, \u2014 a natural rage, not an artificial one, \u2014 and it told as brutality often tells with a woman.<\/p>\n<p>We stood looking at each other. She kept one hand on her clothes just outside her quim, as if to defend it. I with my prick out, felt defeated and mortified. I had been so successful with women, that I could not under- stand not getting my way now. \u201cYou damned fool,\u201d I said, \u201cI dare say fifty have fucked you, and you make a sham about your damned cunt, and your fears, \u2014 what did you come here for?\u201d She opened her eyes with astonishment at my temper. \u201cI didn\u2019t know I was coming here, \u2014 I didn\u2019t know you meant me to do that, \u2014 you said you\u2019d be kind to me, and give me something to eat, sir, \u2014 I\u2019d not eaten since last night, \u2014 you said you would be kind to me, sir.\u201d It was said in the deferential tone of a servant.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 697\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p>\u201cSo I will, but if I\u2019m kind, you must be kind to me, \u2014 why should it be all on one side?\u201d \u201cI\u2019m sure I don\u2019t know,\u201d she whimpered. \u201cYou know he fucked you, and I dare say a dozen others have.\u201d \u201cNo one\u2019s ever done it but he, and he only did it twice,\u201d said she blubbering. \u201cLet me.\u201d \u201cNo I won\u2019t, \u2014 I\u2019m frightened to.\u201d \u201cGo and be damned.\u201d I put in my prick which had drooped, went into the adjoining room, put on my hat and coat, took up my stick, and returning to the bed-room, there was she still with her arse against the bed, crying. She started up when she saw me dressed to go out.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh! don\u2019t leave me here alone sir, \u2014 you won\u2019t will you?\u201d \u201cYes I shall, \u2014 you can find your way out.\u201d \u201cOh! let me go with you sir.\u201d \u201cI shan\u2019t, nor see you again, \u2014 why should I? \u2014 you won\u2019t let me have you, not even feel you!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI would let you, but I\u2019m frightened, \u2014 I\u2019ve got my living to get, and I\u2019ve been ill treated enough by that vagabond, \u2014 I didn\u2019t think you brought me here for that.\u201d \u201cWhat did you think then?\u201d \u201cI didn\u2019t think about it at all, \u2014 I was all along thinking of him.\u201d \u201cYou didn\u2019t think of him when I felt your cunt in the cab last night, \u2014 good-bye.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh! stay only a minute, \u2014 do stay sir, \u2014 don\u2019t leave me here.\u201d She still stood against the bed. \u201cWill you let me? \u2014 what a fool you are.\u201d \u201cOh! don\u2019t call me names, \u2014 I would, but I\u2019m frightened, \u2014 I\u2019ve got my living to get.\u201d Haven\u2019t you been fucked?\u201d \u201cY \u2014 hes, \u2014y \u2014 hes,\u201d she sobbed out, \u201cbut it wasn\u2019t no fault of mine, \u2014 I was \u2014aho! \u2014 fud \u2014 died,\u201d \u2014 and she blubbered as loud as a bull roaring.<\/p>\n<p>A sentiment of compassion came over me, for I never could bear to see a woman cry. I threw off my hat and coat, and going up to her as she stood, kissed her. \u201cThere then, let me feel your cunt, \u2014 that can\u2019t hurt you.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>She did not struggle any more. I lifted her clothes, and placed my fingers on her quim. I frigged hard at the right spot, but could get my fingers no further towards the sacred hole. Her massive thighs shut me off from the prick-tube as closely as if it had been a closed door \u2014 I could not get my hand between them.<\/p>\n<p>But my fingers were between the cunt-lips, twiddling and rubbing. \u201cDon\u2019t cry, \u2014 you\u2019ll let me I know, \u2014 who will know but we?\u201d I fetched a tumbler of champagne from the sitting-room, and she took it like a&nbsp;draught of water. Up went my hand again, and with fingers rubbing her clitoris we talked and kissed side by side. Then turning myself more towards her, up went my other hand round her big bum, which felt as hard, and smooth, and cold as marble.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 698\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p>This went on a long time. She began gradually to yield when she felt the effects of titillation. She then grasped my fiery doodle. Then frigging her harder, her head dropped over my shoulder, and I got my fingers under the clitoris, and there to the hole. \u201cOh! (a start) you are scratching me, \u2014 you\u2019re hurting me there.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Taking away my hand. \u201cCome here, \u2014 don\u2019t be foolish,\u201d said I, \u201clet us do it, \u2014 you will enjoy it, \u2014 come,\u201d \u2014 and I pulled her. Her big form left the bed, and slowly she came with me to the sofa. \u201cSit down, \u2014 there, dear, \u2014 kiss me, \u2014 put up your legs, there\u2019s a darling.\u201d Slowly, but with much pushing and begging there at last she lay, and the instant she was down I threw her petticoats up, and myself on to her.<\/p>\n<p>I saw the great limbs white as snow. A dark hairy mass up in her thigh- tops. \u201cOh! don\u2019t hurt.\u201d \u201cNon-sense I don\u2019t.\u201d \u201cYou do indeed, \u2014 oh!\u201d My hands are roving, my arse oscillating, I\u2019m up a cunt, \u2014 all is over, \u2014 she is fucked.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDid you have pleasure (I always asked that if I had doubt, \u2014 answer me, \u2014 did you? \u2014 do say, \u2014 what nonsense to hold your tongue, tell me.\u201d \u201cYes I did, after you had done hurting me.\u201d \u201cDid I really hurt you?\u201d \u201cYes.\u201d \u201cImpossible.\u201d You did.\u201d What a sham, I thought to myself, a woman always is, \u2014 a Grenadier has fucked her twice, yet she says my prick hurts her.<\/p>\n<p>I turned off on my side, the sofa being large enough. We had done the trick, and the recklessness of the woman who has tasted the pleasure, and feels the man\u2019s spunk in her quim, had come over her. The champagne added its softening influence. She pulled her dress half- down, we laid and talked. I felt her quim. \u201cDon\u2019t.\u201d \u201cWhat is it?\u201d \u201cI\u2019m sore.\u201d \u201cWhy, you are bleeding.\u201d \u201cYou\u2019ve hurt me. Out stood my prick, then rose upright again in a moment. Her blood on my finger and her pain gave me a voluptuous shiver. My trousers were in my way. I tore them off, and stood by her side. \u201cLet me see your cunt.\u201d She resisted, but I saw her big thighs closed, and the dark-haired ornamentation. Then&nbsp;getting between her thighs kneeling, I pulled open the lips from which blood-stained sperm was oozing; then I dropped on to her, and again drove my prick up her. A glorious hick it seemed as I clutched her huge, firm buttocks, and felt her grasping me round my arse. All women, and even girls without any instruction put their arms round the men who are tailing them, the first time they feel the other\u2019s arms. Then we got up, she confused, I joyous and filled with curious baudiness. \u201cWash, \u2014 won\u2019t you?\u201d \u201cYou go then.\u201d I did, but back I went soon. She had just sluiced it. \u201cYou are not bleeding.\u201d \u201cI am a little.\u201d \u201cYou are poorly.\u201d \u201cI am not.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"page\" title=\"Page 699\">\n<div class=\"layoutArea\">\n<div class=\"column\">\n<p>I brought her back into the sitting-room. We drank more wine, she got fuddled, not drunk, or frisky, or noisy, but dull, stupid, and obedient. We fucked again and again, and stayed at the baudy house, drinking and amusing ourselves till nine at night. How that big woman enjoyed the prick up her! And the opening of her cunt opened her heart and mouth to me as well.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/section>\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>VOLUME 4 CHAPTER 8 The next day. \u2022 At the Tower. \u2022 In tears. \u2022 \u201cThe wretch is married.\u201d \u2022 At T***f***d Street. \u2022 After dinner. \u2022 On the chamber-pot. \u2022 My wishes refused. \u2022 An attack. \u2022 Against the bed. \u2022 A stout resistance. \u2022 I threaten to leave her. \u2022 Tears and supplications. &hellip;<\/p>\n<p class=\"read-more\"> <a class=\"\" href=\"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/?page_id=1492\"> <span class=\"screen-reader-text\">Volume Four Chapter Eight<\/span> Read More &raquo;<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1492","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1492"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1492"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1492\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2522,"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1492\/revisions\/2522"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mysecretlife.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1492"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}