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Authors: Ray Furness
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my love,’ she replied. ‘We are going tonight, help me pack my case.
* * * *
Towards evening she came in person to ask me to go to the post-office and send the letters. I take her carriage and am back in an hour.
‘Madame was asking after you,’ said the negress, smiling, as I climb the wide marble staircase.
‘Was anybody here?’
‘Nobody,’ she replied, and crouched low upon the steps like a black cat.
I walk slowly through the room and am standing before the door of her bedroom.
Why is my heart beating so? Am I not happy?
I open the door quietly and pull back the curtain. Wanda is lying on the ottoman and seems not to notice me. How lovely she is in her robe of silvery grey silk which clings to her splendid figure, revealing her wonderful bust, her beautiful arms. Her hair is tied and interwoven with a black velvet ribbon. A great fire is burning in the hearth and the lamp casts its reddish light: the whole room is swimming in blood.
‘Wanda!’ I exclaimed after a few moments.
‘O Severin!’ she cried joyfully, ‘I have been waiting impatiently for you.’ She jumps up and embraces me; she slips down into the deep pillows and seeks to pull me with her, yet I fall at her feet and bury my head in her lap.
‘Do you know that I love you very much today?’ she murmurs, brushing a few loose hairs from my brow and kissing my eyes.
‘How beautiful your eyes are … they have always been your best part, but today they absolutely intoxicate me.
Look I’m expiring …’ and she stretched her lovely limbs and gazed at me tenderly through her red lashes. ‘And you, how cold you are, you are holding me as though I were a piece of wood … Just wait, I’ll make you infatuated!’ she cried, and hung upon my lips, soft and caressing. ‘So, I don’t please you any more … I must be cruel to you again, I was too kind today, apparently. Do you know, you silly little man, I think I’ll beat you a little …’
‘But, darling …’
‘I want to.’
‘Wanda!’
‘Come, let me tie you up,’ she continued, and ran around the room, mischievously. ‘I want to see you truly in love, do you understand? Here are the ropes. I wonder if I can still do it?’
She began tying my feet, then she tied my hands firmly behind my back and then bound my arms like a prisoner.
‘So,’ she said, serene and eager, ‘can you move?’
‘No.’
‘Good.’
She made a lasso of a strong piece of rope, threw it over my head and drew it down to my hips; she pulled it tight and tied me to a pillar.
‘I have the feeling that I am being executed,’ I said quietly.
‘You’re going to get a real whipping today again,’ cried Wanda.
‘But, please,’ I said, ‘put on the fur jacket.’
‘Well, I can give you that pleasure,’ she replied, brought forth the jacket and slipped it on, smiling; then she stood there, her arms crossed on her breast and gazed at me, her eyes half closed.
‘Do you know the story of the Ox of Dionys?’ she asked.
‘Only vaguely … What is it?’
‘One of the courtiers dreamed up this new torture-instrument for the despot of Syracuse, an ox made of iron in which they would place the condemned man before putting the whole thing into the fire. When the iron ox began to glow red-hot the prisoner inside would start to scream, and his agony sounded like the roaring of an ox. Dionys smiled graciously at the inventor and in order to make the first demonstration forced the courtier inside his own invention. This is a very useful precept. It was you, you see, who inoculated me with selfishness, arrogance and cruelty and so you shall be my first victim. I really find pleasure in having a human being who thinks, feels and succumbs to my power, particularly a man who is physically and mentally stronger than I am, in order to ill-treat him, and above all a man who loves me.’
‘To distraction!’ I cried.
‘All
* * * *
Towards evening she came in person to ask me to go to the post-office and send the letters. I take her carriage and am back in an hour.
‘Madame was asking after you,’ said the negress, smiling, as I climb the wide marble staircase.
‘Was anybody here?’
‘Nobody,’ she replied, and crouched low upon the steps like a black cat.
I walk slowly through the room and am standing before the door of her bedroom.
Why is my heart beating so? Am I not happy?
I open the door quietly and pull back the curtain. Wanda is lying on the ottoman and seems not to notice me. How lovely she is in her robe of silvery grey silk which clings to her splendid figure, revealing her wonderful bust, her beautiful arms. Her hair is tied and interwoven with a black velvet ribbon. A great fire is burning in the hearth and the lamp casts its reddish light: the whole room is swimming in blood.
‘Wanda!’ I exclaimed after a few moments.
‘O Severin!’ she cried joyfully, ‘I have been waiting impatiently for you.’ She jumps up and embraces me; she slips down into the deep pillows and seeks to pull me with her, yet I fall at her feet and bury my head in her lap.
‘Do you know that I love you very much today?’ she murmurs, brushing a few loose hairs from my brow and kissing my eyes.
‘How beautiful your eyes are … they have always been your best part, but today they absolutely intoxicate me.
Look I’m expiring …’ and she stretched her lovely limbs and gazed at me tenderly through her red lashes. ‘And you, how cold you are, you are holding me as though I were a piece of wood … Just wait, I’ll make you infatuated!’ she cried, and hung upon my lips, soft and caressing. ‘So, I don’t please you any more … I must be cruel to you again, I was too kind today, apparently. Do you know, you silly little man, I think I’ll beat you a little …’
‘But, darling …’
‘I want to.’
‘Wanda!’
‘Come, let me tie you up,’ she continued, and ran around the room, mischievously. ‘I want to see you truly in love, do you understand? Here are the ropes. I wonder if I can still do it?’
She began tying my feet, then she tied my hands firmly behind my back and then bound my arms like a prisoner.
‘So,’ she said, serene and eager, ‘can you move?’
‘No.’
‘Good.’
She made a lasso of a strong piece of rope, threw it over my head and drew it down to my hips; she pulled it tight and tied me to a pillar.
‘I have the feeling that I am being executed,’ I said quietly.
‘You’re going to get a real whipping today again,’ cried Wanda.
‘But, please,’ I said, ‘put on the fur jacket.’
‘Well, I can give you that pleasure,’ she replied, brought forth the jacket and slipped it on, smiling; then she stood there, her arms crossed on her breast and gazed at me, her eyes half closed.
‘Do you know the story of the Ox of Dionys?’ she asked.
‘Only vaguely … What is it?’
‘One of the courtiers dreamed up this new torture-instrument for the despot of Syracuse, an ox made of iron in which they would place the condemned man before putting the whole thing into the fire. When the iron ox began to glow red-hot the prisoner inside would start to scream, and his agony sounded like the roaring of an ox. Dionys smiled graciously at the inventor and in order to make the first demonstration forced the courtier inside his own invention. This is a very useful precept. It was you, you see, who inoculated me with selfishness, arrogance and cruelty and so you shall be my first victim. I really find pleasure in having a human being who thinks, feels and succumbs to my power, particularly a man who is physically and mentally stronger than I am, in order to ill-treat him, and above all a man who loves me.’
‘To distraction!’ I cried.
‘All
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