Eurasian girls nude pictures

Without asking any questions, they seized me and bound me hand and foot, in spite of my violent resistance. Then my aunt, with an evil smile, rolled up her sleeve and began to whip eurasian girls nude pictures me with a stout switch.

She whipped so hard that the blood flowed, and that, at last, notwithstanding my heroic spirit, I cried and wept and begged for mercy.

She then had me untied, but I had to get down on my knees and thank her for the punishment and eurasian girls nude pictures kiss her hand. [Footnote 2: A woman’s jacket.] “Now you understand the supersensual fool! Under the lash of a beautiful woman my senses first realized the meaning of woman. In her fur-jacket she seemed to me like a wrathful queen, and from then on my aunt became the most desirable eurasian girls nude pictures woman on God’s earth. “My Cato-like austerity, my shyness before woman, was nothing but an excessive feeling for beauty.

In my imagination sensuality became a sort of cult. I took an oath to myself that I would not squander its holy wealth upon any ordinary person, but I would reserve it for an ideal woman, if possible for the goddess of love herself. There were huge closets stuffed full of books, which I bought for a song from a Jewish dealer on the Servanica;3 there were globes, atlases, flasks, charts of the heavens, skeletons of animals, skulls, the busts of eminent men. It looked as though Mephistopheles might have stepped out from behind the huge green store as a wandering scholiast at any moment. [Footnote 3: The street of the Jews in Lemberg.] “I studied everything in a jumble without system, without selection: chemistry, alchemy, history, astronomy, philosophy, law, anatomy, and literature; I read Homer, Virgil, Ossian, Schiller, Goethe, Shakespeare, Cervantes, Voltaire, Moliere, the Koran, the Kosmos, Casanova’s Memoirs. I grew more confused each day, more fantastical, more supersensual. All the time a beautiful ideal woman hovered in my imagination.

Every so and so often she appeared before me like a vision among my leather-bound books and dead bones, lying on a eurasian girls nude pictures bed of roses, surrounded by cupids. Sometimes she appeared gowned like the Olympians with the stern white face of the plaster Venus; sometimes in braids of a rich brown, blue-eyes, in my aunt’s red velvet _kazabaika,_ trimmed with ermine. “One morning when she had again risen out of the golden mist of my imagination in all her smiling beauty, I went to see Countess Sobol, who received me in a friendly, eurasian girls nude pictures even cordial manner.

She gave me a kiss of welcome, which put all my senses in a turmoil.

She was probably about forty years old, but like most well-preserved women of the world, still very attractive.

This time it was one of green velvet with brown marten.

But nothing of the sternness which had so delighted me the other time was now discernable. “On the contrary, there was so little of cruelty in her that without any more ado she let me adore her. “Only too soon did she discover my supersensual folly and innocence, and it pleased her to make me happy. What rapture for me to be allowed to lie before her on my knees, and to kiss her hands, eurasian girls nude pictures eurasian girls nude pictures those with which she had scourged me! What marvellous hands they were, of beautiful form, delicate, rounded, and white, with adorable dimples! I played with them, let them submerge and emerge in the dark fur, held them against the light, and was unable to satiate my eyes with them.” Wanda involuntarily looked at her hand; I noticed it, and had to smile. “From the way in which the supersensual predominated in me in those days you can see that I was in love only with the cruel lashes I received from my aunt; and about two years later when I paid court to a young actress only in the roles she played. Still later I became the admirer of a respectable woman. She acted the part of irreproachable virtue, only in the end to betray me with a rich Jew. You see, it is because I was betrayed, sold, by a woman who feigned the strictest principles and the highest ideals, that I hate that sort of poetical, sentimental virtue so intensely.