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The Incediary Prose06:40 Sep 10 2005
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Dear beloved reader, I've a naughty tale to tell. Although, the means of recording such a treasure will be somewhat of a challenge. Since that pompous Dr. Royce-Collard decided to rid my room of anything that could be fashioned into a quill; I'll have to resort to a more monstrous approach.
But alas he is daft, and without a brain, and I do have my own means of resourcefulness. Who does he think I am? Some crazed madman, without an ounce of intelligence? Well, perhaps I am, but as least I am a madman with some literary taste!
I’ve come to know the means of desperation and deprivation since my imprisonment into The Charenton Asylum For The Insane. They may very well take away my quill, but never will they silence my mind. That is the peril of creating such incendiary prose.
Now as I prepare to spout my most fiendish edition of erotic tales, I shall begin with drinking a glass of the finest vintage wine from an obscure village in Bordeaux. Rather then the grapes being crushed under foot the fruit is placed on a belly of a bride, and reaped of its juices when the young husband steers his vessel into port. Full bodied flavour with just a hint of wantonness. Ah, how succulent this nectar is, it sends shivers of pleasure down my very spine. Conversation like some portions of the anatomy always runs more smoothly when it’s lubricated.
The tale begins with a young aristocrat by the name of Madame DuCharme, bursting with sexual deviancy and lacking of any apparent scruples. This alone calls for an eventful read. Now what Madame DuCharme did not know was that her provocative lifestyle was in for something very peculiar that evening.
She had come across a mysterious man, dark in appearance and with a touch of a playful Charm. He extended his leather clad glove to her, his eyes sporting a fiery excitement. He beckoned her to join him for an evening stroll along the French Riviera. Of course this seeming gentleman was not a gentleman by any means; let us just say his sexual preferences were far more perverse and wicked then she.
The anxious couple stumbled across a dark alley where the enigmatic man tugged vigorously on her wrist, before then positioning his towering figure against hers, and forcing his preternatural fingers to grasp at her silken bodice ribbons. Tearing at them, while grazing his sharpened teeth along her bare, exposed flesh. She let out a pleasurable sigh, not knowing the devilish intentions of her courtier.
A silver glimmer cascaded off the tiny blade that was now only inches from Madame DuCharme’s right ear, but in the heat of this frenzy she did not take notice to this deathly instrument. The French gentleman spoke, letting his plush lips graze at her earlobe, as he tugged wildly at her hair. The instant tension of her body against his made his grasp more violent and horrifying to the young prospect, who had just learned of the demon’s horrible plans.
"I'll carve new orifices where there were none," growled the man as his blade found her ear and sliced profoundly at it until you could no longer distinguish what in fact it was. The man's lips curled into a wicked grin of satisfaction, as the woman flailed her arms in a state of hysteria digging her nails into any bit of flesh she could to possibly deter him from her so that she may escape. But he was not so quick to loosen his grip on her before he finished what he had come to do.
Several more slashes were administered, as he licked the remaining blood from the blade and sneered. The girl’s screams became less and less, as the man tore at her underskirt with incredible vigour and ran the blade of his knife further down her chest, twirling and teasing it amongst her naked skin. "You will be bled dry before I am done with you, you whore".
The girls’ tears welled in her eyes, as she attempted to scream once more but the blade had made its way to her throat and prevented any sound at all to escape from her already colorless lips. A laugh surfaced from the man's throat, its shrill melody danced upon the walls of the alley, creating a most sinister echo. The lifeless girl was hurled into a pit of rubbish, with a note decorating her disfigured corpse: "I'm nothing but a rich man's plaything."
Now dear reader I leave you with the tantalizing aftertaste of this bitter tale, to linger and impress in your thoughts for a moment as I prepare you for the next bit, so go on turn the page, I dare you...
Sincerely The Marquis De Sade
October 5th, 1794
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