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I envied the Knight Ctirad whom the daring Amazon Scharka craftily ensnared in a forest near Prague, and carried to her castle Divin, where, after having amused herself a while with him, she had him broken on the wheel—” “Disgusting,” cried Wanda. “I almost wish you might fall into the hands of a woman of their savage race. In the wolf’s skin, under the teeth of the dogs, or upon the wheel, you would lose the taste for your kind of poetry.” “Do you think so? I hardly do.” “Have you actually lost your senses.” “Possibly. I developed a perfect passion for reading stories in which the extremest cruelties were described. I loved especially to look at pictures and prints which represented them. All the sanguinary tyrants that ever occupied a throne; the inquisitors who had the heretics tortured, roasted, and butchered; all the woman whom the pages of history have recorded as lustful, beautiful, and violent women like Libussa, Lucretia Borgia, Agnes of Hungary, Queen Margot, Isabeau, the Sultana Roxolane, the Russian Czarinas of last century—all these I saw in furs or in robes bordered with ermine.” “And so furs now rouse strange imaginings in you,” said Wanda, and simultaneously she began to drape her magnificent fur-cloak coquettishly about her, so that the dark shining sable played beautifully around her bust and arms. “Well, how do you feel now, half broken on the wheel?” Her piercing green eyes rested on me with a peculiar mocking satisfaction. Overcome by desire, I flung myself down before her, and threw my arms about her. “It has slept long enough.” “And this is?” She put her hand on my neck. I was seized with a sweet intoxication under the influence of this warm little hand and of her regard, which, tenderly searching, fell upon me through her half-closed lids. _“To be the slave of a woman, a beautiful woman, whom I love, whom I worship.”_ “And who on that account maltreats you,” interrupted Wanda, laughing. “Yes, who fetters me and whips me, treads me underfoot, the while she gives herself to another.” “And who in her wantonness will go so far as to make a present of you to your successful rival when driven insane by jealousy you must meet him face to face, who cute blonde teen porn queens will turn you over to his absolute mercy. This final tableau doesn’t please you so well?” I looked at Wanda frightened. “You surpass my dreams.” “Yes, we women are inventive,” she said, “take heed, when you find spider teen porn your ideal, it might easily happen, that she will treat you more cruelly than you anticipate.” “I am afraid that I have already found my ideal!” I exclaimed, burying my burning face in her lap. “Not I?” exclaimed Wanda, throwing off her furs and moving about the room laughing. She was still laughing as I went downstairs, and when I stood musing in the yard, I still heard her peals of laughter above. * * * * * “Do you really then expect me to embody your ideal?” Wanda asked archly, when we met in the park to-day. The most antagonistic emotions were battling within me. In the meantime she sat down on one of the stone-benches, and played with a flower.

“Once more I beg you to become my wife, my true and loyal wife; if you can’t do that then become the embodiment of my ideal, absolutely, without reservation, without softness.” “You know I am ready uncensored teen penis going into vigina porn gifs at the end of a year to spider teen porn give you my hand, if you prove to be the man I am seeking,” Wanda replied very seriously, “but I think you would be more grateful to me if through me you realized your imaginings. Well, which do you prefer?” “I believe that everything my imagination has dreamed lies latent in your personality.” “You are spider teen porn mistaken.” “I believe,” I continued, “that you enjoy having a man wholly in your power, torturing him—” “No, no,” she exclaimed quickly, “or perhaps—.” She pondered. “I don’t understand myself any longer,” she continued, “but I have a confession to make to you. You have corrupted my imagination and inflamed my blood. The enthusiasm with which you speak of a real amature teen porn Pompadour, a Catherine the spider teen porn Second, and all the other selfish, frivolous, cruel women, carries me away and takes hold of my soul.

It urges me on to become like those women, who in spite of their vileness were slavishly adored during their lifetime and still exert a miraculous power from their graves.

“You will end by making of me a despot in miniature, a domestic Pompadour.” “Well then,” I said in agitation, “if all this is inherent in you, give way to this trend of your nature. If you can’t be a true and loyal wife to me, be a demon.” I was nervous from loss of sleep, and the proximity of the beautiful woman affected me like a fever.

I no longer spider teen porn recall what I said, but I remember that I kissed her feet, and finally raised her foot and put my neck under it.

“If you love me, Severin,” she said quickly, and her voice sounded sharp and commanding, “never speak to me of those things again. Otherwise I might really—” She smiled and sat down again.

“I adore you so infinitely that I am willing to suffer anything from you, for the sake of spending my whole life near you.” “Severin, once more I warn you.” “Your warning is vain.