Memoirs of Fanny Hill: A New and Genuine Edition from the Original Text (London, 1749) — John Shaqi
Memoirs of Fanny Hill: A New and Genuine Edition from the Original Text (London, 1749)Cleland, John
General
Memoirs of Fanny Hill: A New and Genuine Edition from the Original Text (London, 1749)
Cleland, John
England -- Fiction; Erotic fiction; Prostitutes -- Fiction
But long I was not suffered to remain in this state of stupefaction:
the monster squatted down by me on the settee, and without farther
ceremony or preamble, flings his arms about my neck, and drawing me
pretty forcibly towards him, obliged me to receive, in spite of my
struggles to disengage from him, his pestilential kisses, which quite
overcame me. Finding me then next to senseless, and unresisting, he
tears off my neck handkerchief, and laid all open there, to his eyes
and hands: still I endured all without flinching, till emboldened by my
sufferance and silence, for I had not the power to speak or cry out, he
attempted to lay me down on the settee, and I felt his hand on the
lower part of my naked thighs, which were crossed, and which he
endeavoured to unlock. Oh then! I was roused out of my passive
endurance, and springing from him with an activity he was not prepared
for, threw myself at his feet, and begged him, in the most moving tone,
not to be rude, and that he would not hurt me. “Hurt you, my dear?”
says the brute, “I intend you no harm. Has not the old lady told you
that I love you? that I shall do handsomely by you?”
“She has indeed, sir,” said I, “but I cannot love you, indeed I cannot!
pray let me alone! yes! I will love you dearly if you will let me alone
and go away.” But I was talking to the wind, for whether my tears, my
attitude, or the disorder of my dress proved fresh incentives, or
whether he was now under the dominion of desires he could not bridle,
but snorting and foaming with lust and rage, he renews his attack,
seizes me, and again attempts to extend and fix me on the settee: in
which he succeeded so far as to lay me along, and even to toss my
petticoats over my head, and lay my thighs bare, which I obstinately
kept close, nor could he, though he attempted with his knee to force
them open, effect it so as to stand fair for being master of the main
avenue; he was unbuttoned, both waistcoat and breeches, yet I only felt
the weight of his body upon me, whilst I lay struggling with
indignation, and dying with terrors; but he stopped all of a sudden,
and got off, panting, blowing, cursing, and repeating “old and ugly!”
for so I had very naturally called him in the heat of my defence.
The brute had, it seems, as I afterwards understood, brought on, by his
eagerness and struggle, the ultimate period of his hot fit of lust,
which his power was too short-lived to carry him through the full
execution of; of which my thighs and linen received the effusion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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