Free Venus in India by Charles Devereaux Page A

Searle a most dreadful blow in the face with his fist - oh! I was so delighted to hear it - it made him stagger and the blood spurt from his nose. But Searle seemed really like a lunatic. He rushed again at the young man, and hit him several nasty blows, so that the second one came to his friend's assistance. I urged the two on and Searle got a thrashing, I can tell you! Still he would not quit. By this time the khansama, the principal coolies, your servant Soubratie and everyone belonging to the bungalow had come. I could not help continuing to scream. Everybody went for Searle, and at last he was turned out of the house yelling and fighting like a wild beast. Some soldiers came running off the road, and at first, seeing who Searle was, wanted to help him, but the young men told them what he had done, and apparently they don't love Searle at the barracks, for these men joined in beating him, and upon my word I began to get frightened. I thought they would kill him between them all. Oh! the row was tremendous. Presently down came the picket from the barracks; the soldiers seeing them ran away. Searle was lying on the ground, a crowd around him; some men had torches alight, and the khansama had got a lantern, and you never saw such a group as they formed. The young men who had helped to save me from being ravished explained the whole matter to the NCO of the picket, and as Searle's trousers were open, and his prick showing, though no longer stiff and standing, he understood the whole thing. Searle, though hardly able to breathe, wanted them to take the young men prisoner, but the NCO begged them to go away, and persuaded him to let himself be carried home, for he could not walk. Oh! Charlie! it made me so sick and ill! I don't know how I have been able to tell you so much - my head is splitting, and I feel all pounded to death by that brute.'
    I leave my readers to appreciate the state of anger and disgust toward Searle which this vivid narrative of poor Lizzie's produced. Oh! I had come home hoping for such a sweet night of delightful fucking, but it was plain that that was out of the question, and indeed, all desire, other than for vengeance on Searle, had gone out of my head. Lizzie looked very ill, when I came to examine her by the light of the candle, and I begged her to go to bed.
    'Yes, dear!' she said. 'It is the best place for me, but oh! Charlie dear! I am afraid I cannot have you tonight! Poor boy! I am sure you came home expecting to have some grand fucking, and I am so grieved to disappoint you, but I feel too sick!'
    'You poor darling girl!' I cried. 'I had hoped, as you say, to have some more delicious fucks with you tonight, but of course it cannot come off now. Come to bed and let me help you to undress.'
    She did as I asked her. I undressed her and was shocked to find the state she was in. Her throat was bruised a little but her poor thighs were one mass of contusions, all scored by the fingernails of the monster who had attacked her. I kissed them, 'to make them well', and poor Lizzie smiled faintly and kissed me, and then lay down and begged me to leave her alone. But hardly had she put her head on the pillow than she called out that she was going to be sick.
    'Oh! Charlie! Help me to my bathroom!'
    But I ran and got her a chillumchee [brass basin] and brought it to her, and she, poor creature, was deadly sick. I held her burning forehead in my hands and did all I could to comfort her, and to assist, and at last, completely exhausted, she sank back and her whole appearance alarmed me. When I came home she was fairly cool, but now she was the colour of a penny, and her skin was hot, parched and burning. I guessed she had a fever and the suddenness of the attack alarmed me. All that night I tended her, keeping her well covered up to induce perspiration, and from time to time gave her water to drink for which she moaned. Nobody who has not watched a sickbed under circumstances somewhat similar can tell how