The Dedalus Book of German Decadence by Ray Furness Read Free Book Online

movements.
    ‘Tie him to that pillar.’
    The negresses lifted me up, fixed a thick rope about my body and tied me, standing, to one of the massive pillars supporting the wide Italian bed. They then disappeared as though the earth had swallowed them.
    Wanda quickly stepped up to me, her white satin robe flowing like a silver train, like moonlight, after her, and her hair gleaming like fire against the white fur of her jacket. She now stood before me, her left hand on her hip, her right holding the riding-crop, and she gave a short, sharp laugh.
    ‘Now the game is over between us,’ she said, and there was ice in her voice, ‘now it is serious. You fool, I laugh at you, I despise you, you, who have become a plaything in a moment of blind infatuation, a plaything in the hands of an arrogant, capricious woman. You are no longer my lover, but my slave, given over to my arbitrary whims, and it’s now a matter of life or death. You will get to know me now! And firstly you will in all seriousness get to know the whip, without ever having done anything, so that you will know what to expect the moment you are clumsy, disobedient or recalcitrant.’
    With a wild gracefulness she rolled up the fur trimmed sleeve and whipped me across the back.
    I shuddered: the whip cut like a knife into my flesh.
    ‘Well, how did you like that?’
    I remained silent.
    ‘Just you wait, you will soon whimper like a dog beneath the lash!’ she threatened, and began to whip.
    The lashes fell thick and fast, with terrifying force, on to my back, my arms, my neck: I bit my teeth together in order not to cry aloud. And then she hit me in the face, the warm blood ran down me, but she only laughed and continued to wield the whip.
    ‘Now I understand you’ she was crying ‘it is truly a great pleasure to have someone in your power like this, and especially the man who loves me – you still love me, don’t you? Do you? I’ll rip the flesh from you, I enjoy it more with every blow! So flinch, whine, whimper! You will find no mercy here!’
    Finally she started to tire.
    She threw the whip away, stretched herself out on the ottoman and rang the bell.
    The negresses entered.
    ‘Untie him.’
    As they undid the rope I fell to the floor like a lump of wood. The black women laughed, showing their white teeth.
    ‘Undo the bonds around his feet.’
    This they did, and I was able to rise.
    ‘Come to me, Gregor.’
    I approached that beautiful woman who was never so seductive as that moment, in her cruelty and her scorn.
    ‘One step closer,’ Wanda ordered, ‘kneel down and kiss my foot.’
    She thrust her foot from under the white satin hem and I, like a transfigured fool, pressed my lips on it.
    ‘You will not see me for a whole month, Gregor,’ she said seriously. ‘Then I shall become a stranger to you, and you will be able to adapt all the more easily to your new position. During this time you will work in the garden and await my orders. Now march, slave!’
    […]
    Today she is going to a ball at the Greek embassy. Does she know that she will meet him there, this Greek nobleman, this Alexis Papadopolis?
    She has certainly dressed as though she does. A heavy sea green dress of silk clings to her divine figure, leaving her arms and bust exposed: in her hair, done in one single gleaming knot, a white waterlily is gleaming, with green fronds linked with loose strands of hair falling upon her neck. There is no trace of excitement, nothing feverish or agitated, about her: she is calm, so calm that I feel my blood freeze and my heart grow cold beneath her gaze. Slowly, with majestic lassitude, she climbs the marble stairs, letting her precious wrap slip from her shoulder: with nonchalant ease she enters the ball-room, the silver mist of a hundred candles.
    I stare at her, lost, for a moment, and then I pick up her furs which had sunk from my hands without my knowing it. It is still warm from her shoulders.
    I kiss the spot, and tears fill my