That morning， after having made some observations upon the shit the subjects were producing for lubricious purposes， the friends decided that the society ought to try something Duclos had spoken of in her narrations： I am referring to the suppression of bread and soup from all the tables save Messieurs’. These two articles were withdrawn， and replaced by twice the former quantity of fowl and game. They hoped to remark some improvement， and in less than a week an essential difference in the community’s excrements was indeed perceived： they were more mellow， softer， dissolved more readily， had an infinitely more subtle flavor， and the friends discovered that d’Aucourt’s advice to Duclos had been that of a consummate libertine thoroughly penetrated with an appreciation of such matters. It was pointed out， however， that this new diet might have some effect upon breaths：
“Well， what does that matter？” asked Curval， to whom the Duc had addressed his objection； “’tis very faulty reasoning to maintain that， to give pleasure， a woman’s mouth or a youth’s must be absolutely clean and sweet smelling. Setting aside all idiosyncrasy for a moment， I most willingly grant you that he who requires stinking breath and a foul mouth is moved by depravation only， but for your part you must grant me that a mouth entirely bereft of odor gives not the slightest pleasure when kissed. There must always be some kind of spice to the thing， some flavor there， for where’s the joy if it’s not stung alive？ the joy’s asleep， I say， and it’s only waked by a little filth. However clean may be the mouth， the lover who sucks it assuredly does an unclean thing， and there is no doubt at all in his mind that it is that very uncleanness that pleases him. Give a somewhat greater degree of strength to the impulse and you’ll want that mouth to be impure. If it fall short of smelling of rot or the cadaver， well， be patient， the taste will develop， but that it have nothing but an odor of milk and honey or infancy， that， I tell you， is insufferable. And so the diet we’re going to subject them to will， at the worst， lead not at all to corruption， but only to a certain alteration， and that is all that’s necessary.”
The morning searches brought nothing to light . . . the youngsters were keeping strict watch over their conduct. No one requested toilet permission， and the company sat down at table. Adelaide， one of the servants at the meal， having been enjoined by Durcet to fart in a champagne glass， and having been unable to comply， was directly entered in the fatal book by her unfeeling husband who， since the beginning of the week， had been continually endeavoring to find her at fault.
Coffee came next； it was handed round by Cupidon， Giton， Michette， and Sophie. The Duc thigh-fucked Sophie， and while so doing had her shit upon his hand； the nobleman took that pretty little packet and smeared it over his face， the Bishop did precisely the same thing with Giton and Curval with Michette， but as for Durcet， he popped his little device into Cupidon’s mouth as that charming boy squeezed out his turd. There were， notwithstanding， no discharges and， having risen from their nap， Messieurs went to hear Duclos.
A man we had never seen previously， said that amiable whore， came to the house and proposed a rather unusual ceremony： he wished to be tied to one side of a stepladder； we secured his thighs and waist to the third rung and， raising his arms above his head， tied his wrists to the uppermost step. He was naked. Once firmly bound， he had to be exposed to the most ferocious beating， clubbed with the cat’s handle when the knots at the tips of the cords were worn out. He was naked， I repeat， there was no need to lay a finger upon him， nor did he even touch himself， but after having received a savage pounding his monstrous instrument rose like a rocket， it was seen to sway and bounce between the ladder’s rungs， hovering like a pendulum and， soon after， impetuously launch its fuck into the middle of the room. He was unbound， he paid， and that was all.
The following day he sent us one of his friends whose buttocks and thighs， member and balls had to be pricked with a golden needle. Not until he was covered with blood did he discharge. I handled that commission myself， and as he constantly shouted to me to thrust deeper， I had almost to bury the needle in his glans before seeing his fuck squirt into my palm. As he unleashed it， he thrust his face against mine， sucked my mouth prodigiously， and that was all there was to it.
A third - and he too was an acquaintance of his two predecessors - ordered me to flail every bit of his body with nettles. I soon had him streaming blood， he eyed himself in a mirror， and it was not before he saw his body reduced to a scarlet shambles that he let fly his fuck， without touching anything， fondling anything， without requiring anything else of me.
Those excesses entertained me hugely， I took a secret delight in participating in them； and all my whimsical clients were equally delighted with me. It was at about the period of those three scenes that a Danish nobleman， having been sent to me for pleasure parties of a very different character， which others have been designated to discuss， had the imprudence to arrive at my establishment with ten thousand francs in diamonds， as much in other gems， and five hundred louis in cash. The prize was too handsome to be allowed to get away； between the two of us， Lucile and I managed to rob the Dane of his last sou. He thought to lodge a complaint， but as I used to pay a heavy bribe to the police， and as in those days one did just about whatever one pleased with gold， the gentleman was ordered to put a stop to his wailing， and his belongings became mine， or rather most of them did， for， in order to assure myself of little clear title to that treasure， I had to yield a few precious stones to the minions of the law. Never have I committed a theft， and I would have you remark this interesting fact， without encountering some stroke of good fortune the next day； this latest windfall was a new client， but one of those daily clients one may truly consider a brothel’s bread and butter.
This individual was an old courtier who， weary of the homages he used unendingly to receive in the palaces of kings， like to visit whores and enjoy a change of role. He wanted to start with me； very well， said I， and we began without further ado. I had to make him recite his lessons and recite his little speeches， and every time he made a mistake， he had to get down on his knees and receive， sometimes on his knuckles， sometimes on his behind， vigorous blows of a leathern ferule such as the regents use in schoolrooms. It was also my task to keep a sharp eye out for signs of emotion； once the fire had been lit， I would snatch up his prick and shake it skillfully， scolding him all the while， calling him a little libertine， a very scurvy fellow， a worry to His Majesty， and other childish names which would cause him to come very voluptuously. The identical ceremony was to be executed five times each week at my establishment， but always with a different and properly instructed girl， and for this service I received a stipend of twenty-five louis per month. I knew so many women in Paris I had no trouble promising him what he asked and keeping my word； I had that charming pupil in my house for a decade， toward the end of which period he decided to pack his bags and go off to pursue his studies in hell.
However， I too was aging with the passing years， and although I had the kind of face which retains its beauty， I was beginning to notice that my visitors were men more and more often conveyed to me by whim and accident. I still had some staunch and dependable suitors even at thirty-six， and the rest of the adventures in which I took a hand belong to the period between that time and my fortieth year.
Though thirty-six years old， as I say， the libertine， whose mania I am going to relate in closing today’s session， would have nothing to do with anyone else. He was an abbot of sixty or thereabouts， for I received no one but gentlemen of a certain age， and every woman who would like to seek her fortune in our trade will doubtless see fit to impose the same rules barring irresponsible youth from her house. The holy man arrives， and as soon as we are closeted together he begs to see my bum.
“Ah， yes， there’s the world’s finest ass，” he says admiringly. “But， unfortunately， that is not the apparatus which is to provide me with the pittance I intend to consume. Here， take hold，” says he， putting his buttocks into my hands， “that’s the source whence all good things do come. . . . Be so kind as to help me shit.”
I bring up a porcelain pot and place it upon my knees， the abbot backs toward me， stoops， I press his anus， pry it open， and， to be brief， agitate it in every way I think likely to hasten his evacuation. It takes place， an enormous turd fills the bowl， I offer it to its author， he seizes it， precipitates himself upon it， devours it， and discharges after fifteen minutes of the most violent flogging which I administer upon the same behind that shortly before laid such a splendid egg for his breakfast. He swallowed it all； he had so nicely judged the situation that his sperm did not appear until the last mouthful vanished. All the while I plied my whip， I excited him with steady stream of comments such as： “Well， then， little rascal， what’s this？” and， “Why， here’s a nasty little chap， can you really eat shit that way？” and， “I’ll teach you， you funny little whoreson bastard； perform such disgraceful things， will you？”
And it was by dint of these actions and speeches that the libertine attained the summit of joy.
At this point， Curval was moved to give the company a before-supper demonstration in fact of what Duclos had described in words. He summoned Fanchon， she extracted shit from him， and the libertine devoured it while the old sorceress drubbed him with all the strength of her skinny but sinewed arm. That lubric exhibition having inspired his confreres， they began hunting for shit wherever any might be found， and then Curval， who had not discharged， mixed the rest of his turd with Thérèse’s， whom he had excrete without further ado.
The Bishop， accustomed to making use of his brother’s delights， did the same thing with Duclos， the Duc with Marie， little Durcet with Louison. It was atrocious， why， it was unthinkable to employ such decrepit old horrors when such pretty objects stood ready at one’s beck and call； but， oh how well ’tis known， satiety is born in the arms of abundance， and when in the very thick of voluptuous delights one takes an even keener pleasure in torments.
These unclean stunts over and done with， and the doing having cost only one discharge， and ’twas the Bishop who produced it， the friends went to table. Having involved themselves in a series of foul activities， they thought best not to change horses in midstream， and for the orgies would have only the four old duennas and the four storytellers； everyone else was packed off to bed. Their Lordships said so many things， did so many more， that all four came like geysers， and our libertine quartet did not retire until overcome with drink and exhaustion.
