Whores Mae Great Wives

Pt. 4- FRENCH WHORES MAKE GREAT WIVES

The Japanese Ambassador's Crimes

{The teller of this tale, Gaspardo Del Tornet, talks of his life experiences. Gaspardo is a French citizen born in Aix-en-Provence of a father who was very strict, being a Sergeant in the French military and born of a French Moroccan mother, who was a baker, specializing in chocolate filled beignets. Gaspardo is now 94 years old and has continued to recounted his life's adventures as herein dictated to the writer known as Erectus. The interview starts with Gaspardo speaking.}

INTRODUCTION

My first wife Jean, God rest her soul, was, and I'm not ashamed to say it, she was a French street whore. At the worst she may have been the most common of a common street whore who plied her trade among common men. For every man who has a cock, there comes a time when he has need to find a willing chamber in which he can discharge those poisons that the almighty has insinuated in the very spleen of mankind. Above all, my dear wife, Jean De Tormet was a fine person who was not only honest but treated people in the most Christian manner, and God knows, she alleviated the poisons in many a man's spleen.

Jean used to work the streets back in the 1960's, that surround the huge Flea Market in Paris, which is still found there on the Rue des Rosiers. Famous the world over for its fine antiques and unique offerings, many of the peddlers and antique dealers who displayed there were her regular customers, and many tourists found her beauty, charms and professional skills most irresistible.

In her day she was one of the most beautiful whores to work the streets. She no doubt would have earned more in a bordello but she didn't want to work under a pimp or boss, both figuratively or literally. She loved her freedom and always remained independent. Of course, she always dyed her brown hair to a honey blonde, she had big natural breasts with full perky nipples, probably bigger than the ever popular Bardot but with a narrow waist just like Brigitte who she resembled. In the evening she was often mistaken for the starlet, which is ridiculous, what would Bardot be doing whoring on the street under a night lamp? But men live in a fantasy world and Jean had every right to take advantage of their sexual stupidity. But the truth was she was a near look alike, it was uncanny, I must say that whenever we went places together, people would point and often come up to us to ask for her autograph.

Jean was extremely intelligent, she spoke a little of several languages. When approached by foreigners she could get by in sex banter with the Chinese in Mandarin, with Indians in Urdu and with the blackest of Africans in Swahili, she could even trade Brooklyn slang with the Yanks and if she could not communicate with words, she would use sign language. And for those clients who preferred quiet, her face could communicate all the necessary emotions while her mouth did all the work or the preparation for what comes next.

PT. #4 - THE JAPANESE AMBASSADOR'S CRIMES

(Please be advised that portions of this story contain horrible war crime recollections. Sensitive or impressionable readers definitely should not continue with this singular episode which chronicles extreme sadistic behavior. All victims are 18 years or older)

And so it came to pass, that on an afternoon when Jean visited the Louvre Museum, which in her experience was an excellent place to find new lovers, Jean met a thin short Japanese gentleman who wore a monocle and walked with a limp. His Excellency Ambassador Hirotomi spoke excellent French. Within minutes of their meeting, he was telling her his life story, although only the good parts. How was it that he was so fluent? As a child he had studied at a select private French Academy in Singapore where his father, also a senior diplomat, was stationed.

After their preliminary conversation, they strolled through the gallery, the Ambassador commenting with authority on the many impressionist paintings that were exhibited there. Of course, being a man of the world he was aware that Jean was not some bored housewife or grad student doing research, her occupation was obvious to him.

Eventually they reached the end of the hall where a giant Rodin statue of "The Lovers" was exhibited. It was in this exact place where Jean had found many afternoon lovers. She paused at the statue's side, knowing that she had obviously struck this man's fancy. In the most delicate and correct manner, he invited her,

"Come Mon Cherie, dine with me tonight."

"Where?"

"Come to my private residence, at the Japanese Embassy, 31 Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, at 7:00pm."

Knowing this was a special occasion, she dressed in a silver lame' Dior gown she had been given by a former client, who in a fit of jealousy over his wife's indiscretion, had stolen it from her closet to give to his current lover, Jean.

When Jean arrived at the Japanese Embassy, it was already dark and of course the Embassy was closed to the public at that hour, but those who resided within entered by the side door under a single bright lamp, where a uniformed porter dressed in a military manner, with gold braid on his left shoulder and wearing very thick glasses escorted her to the Ambassador's private quarters.

That evening they enjoyed a fine meal prepared by the Ambassador's private chef who prepared a special meal of exotic raw fish and delicate mussels served over chipped ice with an array of dipping sauces on the side in tiny ceramic bowls. The finest quality imported hot Sake was constantly poured into tiny drinking cups to accompanied the meal.

As the evening progressed, the chef was dismissed and the Ambassador continued to dominate the conversation. He surprised her with his knowledge of French cinema. He talked at length about how he adored Jean Gabin, Philippe Noiret, Jeanne Moreau and others actors and director-filmmakers, especially Renoir, the son of the famed artist whom he had met at an Embassy function. Actually Jean had several well know actors of both sexes as clients.

When he saw that Jean was knowledgeable and a connoisseur of the cinema, he asked if she would like to accompany him to the Saturday night cinema's weekly shows, and thus began a relationship that was to persisted over a long period of time.

The two of them would go, her arm around his waist supporting him as he walked with his limp, as if they were two young lovers. Of course the Parisians inside the cinema probably recognized Jean was a street walker, but he was proud to be in her company and never complained about her short skirt and tight sweater. Had he said a word she might have dressed differently. Perhaps it was his ego that wanted to demonstrate to the world not only his conquest of this attractive woman but also his virility.

On their weekly cinema outings he would first take her to dinner first, often at a famous French seafood restaurant where he would order bouillabaisse, a fish soup specialty that was the most expensive item on the menu. He would insist on two bottles of wine, a sparkling Blanquette de Limoux to accompany the seafood and a sweet dessert wine, such as Monbazillac that went so well with the chocolate profiterole.

Thus filled with delicious food, fine wine and a sweet desert they would walk to a magnificent art deco theater, the Gran Rex Cinema on Boulevard Poissonnière. Seated together, hand in hand, they would watch his beloved cinema; sometimes classic art films, and sometimes new productions.

Hours later, after their entertainment, she would accompany him back to the Embassy, to his bedroom quarters where he lived in opulent splendor. He would ask her to help him undress and he would recline on his four post bed wearing only his silk underwear. Jean, at his request, would undress completely for his pleasure. Because her breasts were so large, without a bra they hung pendulous against her belly, her thick nipples, which she always tinged with red rouge, pointing down, like a cluster of red grapes ready to be harvested.

During these moment of intimacy, he would ask her to refer to him not as the Ambassador, but as Lieutenant Hirotomi. He would instruct her to open the top left drawer of the black teak lacquered dresser where she found neatly wrapped within a silk pouch, four balls of hemp cord, each being two and one half meters long. He would instruct her to tie the cord to each of his limbs with slip knots and then pull them tightly and secured the other end of the cord to each of the four tall bed posts.

Then, at his direction, she would again approach the teak bureau and open a small upper side drawer on the right side, and extract a whip with small sharp steel wires attached to the ends of leather straps which lay beside a small leather bound sharkskin notebook. This secret note book cataloged the Lieutenant's war victims.

The small notebook listed in french the names and occupations, the dates and other information. Further details were often written in Japanese. At his insistence she would read him a name from a long list of women and women whom he had molested during the war when the Japanese had invaded and cruelly occupied the Philippines.

At that time the Lieutenant was the commandant of a Japanese prisoner of war camp. Incarcerated there were Western diplomatic staff, assorted western and local foreign businessmen, Red Cross personal as well as Koreans and attractive nationals who were incarcerated to serve as sex slaves.

She would read each name and then pause while he would recall in detail how his victim looked and reacted when he forced him or her to satisfy his sexual whims. For some names he said little, for others he went into great detail.

That first night, Jean, had thought the Ambassador a kindly older gentleman, a peaceful man, who would have, at the least, wanted her to perform oral or a hand job or maybe even some Asian variant of coitus; instead he wanted none of that. He wanted an ear to confess to and the stand-in for a medieval priest to whip him raw, to punish him corporally for the sins of twenty-five years prior.

What were the most lurid of these stories? He spoke of mothers who offered themselves willingly to his sexual depravity to spare their daughters, only to see their loved ones defiled by him thereafter. He gave details of female victims who refused to entertain him who were executed right in his bed with a pistol shot to the head and made to conform to his sexual depravities even after death. Those who were made to witnesses these barbarities would comply thereafter to any request, few arguments ensued with those who only sought to survive.

That first night he recounted details to Jean that made her ill and nauseated. With time she became sensitized to the horrors.

The Lieutenant had a prodigious memory for each of his victims. Sometimes Jean wondered if these were true recollections or merely fantasies.

After his confessionals he would ask Jean to whip him on his chest or legs. Sometimes as few as 4 lashes, sometimes many more. Apparently the severity of the lashes was a measured response to his crimes. That first night his chest and shoulders were reduced to a mass of ripped skin and blood. When she finished he would ask her to mark the list with an 'x' and the page with a string that was attached to the top of the notebook. This way they might start the next time with those names they had not yet treated.

Another night she heard his lurid confession of how he brutalized a Canadian Health secretary from the Red Cross, named Gretchen Kanuse. Forcing her to comply under the threat of killing her child, she permitted him to enter her analy, something she had never experienced.

Contrary to western myths that Asians have small penises, the Ambassador or should we say the Deviant Lieutenant Tomari, as he was known, stated unequivocally and without any intention to boast, that his penis was so large that his uniform had to be specially fitted to contain his member which was the size of a Satori beer bottle in girth and extended length.

When he was finished with Doris Delgado, she died hours later of intestinal hemorrhage, probably exacerbated by the sharp studded silver cock ring that was specially made to fit his massive cock. After hearing this confession, Jean whipped him without pity, which is what he desired.

The next time they were together, they took their customary meal and then a movie. Afterwards they would retire to the Ambassador's quarters where she would follow the precedent of tying him down. Then he asked her to read the next name. It was a Philippine name, Pinky DiPinea.

The Lieutenant remembered her well. He used her on consecutive days to suck his large dick and she was quite good at this, he even thought she enjoyed it. Some women, he thought, are just in love with cock. However, her enthusiasm was purposeful. Her husband was also one of the prisoners and knowing that his life depended on her pleasuring the Lieutenant she outdid herself.

Little did she know that her husband, bound and gagged was trussed up in a straw basket at the end of the bunk, where he might see every sexual act she performed. One the last night, as she sucked his cock, he commanded her to swallow. As she followed this dictate, he struck her in the forehead with a short samurai sword that pierced her brain causing her to die with her last gulp of his semen. Once so disposed off, he thrust a longer sword into the basket disemboweling her husband.

On each evening, horrible details poured out of his mouth describing one or more scenes of the most sadistic nature. One night he told her of a young British woman whose eyes he plucked out to fornicate with her eye sockets. Unhappy she died before he came, his penis broke through into to her brain. Furious that the bone chips cut into his penis he beat the dead woman till her head was a pulpy mass of blood and tissue.

A Filipino male prisoner called Salvador Ignacio who worked in the prison kitchen, was caught stealing extra rations. The Lieutenant's punishment was to sever both hand and both feet and feet with his razor sharp sword and make Salvador watch as another inmate used the bony limbs to make a soup mixed with maggot infested rice to be fed to the other prisoners. The poor man bled to death just as the soup was completed boiling.

On another night the Lieutenant described the fate of a Sister Louise, an Indonesian supplicant. He stripped her naked and had his soldiers watch him rape her and as she lay bare breasted, he cut her nipples off and then had them later prepared as a sushi dish which he ate while she was gang raped by over a hundred soldiers. She suffocated under the effusions of their depravities.

A priest, Father Juno, a gentile man who had kept up the prison moral with religious services, was anal gang raped that same afternoon, then castrated, as "a Christmas present to your God," the Lieutenant proclaimed. The priest was buried alive with his own penis shoved up his rectum.

An 18 year old man who looked younger, was kept chained to the Lieutenant's bed every night. There he was continually molested. When not suffering molestations he was forced to watch his mother being abused as well. The youth, still in chains, managed to drape the chains around his neck and hang himself one night while his persecutor, too involved torturing his mother, failed to notice. To signal his regret, he let the mother live another week substituting the son with a daughter who he kept alive long enough to witness the murder of her mother. Thereafter she was given a knife so she might killed herself.

Perhaps one of the most gruesome tales involved a Greek prisoner who had lived in the Philippines for most of his life. He and his brothers ran a construction company during peacetime. For some reason the Japanese army had a strong dislike for this family, one by one his brothers were killed in the most awful ways. The last one, the soldier called "Yama no otoko" which the Ambassador translated as "Mountain man."

He described him as a tall, barrel chested man with a great deal of body hair. When the prisoners were stripped nude and sprayed down every two weeks, as an attempt to lessen the prevalence of body lice, it soon became evident that the "Greek" had an extremely large male organ. Certainly large enough to make lesser men jealous.

On a chosen day for his punishment for eating too much, which was in itself a fraud as the man had lost over 100 pounds since being incarcerated. The "Greek" was tied hand and foot and his nude body was hoisted with a block and tackle, some twenty feet in the air by a thick wire wrapped around his penis and anchored by his testicles.

Had he been a man of lesser build and lighter in weight he might have survived, after several attempt to hoist him proved unsuccessful due to the wire slippage, cutting him terribly, the Lieutenant, using a thinner electrical cable wired him again with great care. The Greek was again hoisted and this time he remained suspended for a terrible hour, finally his screaming ended with the sound of a deadly thud. Providence had spoken to spare him further torture and severed his enormous sexual organ, both penis and testicles from his body, dropping him on his head where upon his cranium with brain seemingly exploded.

I asked Jean how she could stand listening in detail to these scenes of homicidal abuse and murder by mutilation. She said this was the only way the Lieutenant could atone in part for his crimes. In part, she said, as in the next world he would be called to atone for all of them.

And so my dear wife Jean put up with his strange behavior, becoming a flagellant, not for reasons of sexual perversion, but for what might be described as being a helper for a religious zealot trying to atone for sins beyond redemption. These weekly whippings continued for a year and a half. Sometimes It took a longer time for the Ambassadors wounds to heal and they might skip a week.

To say the Ambassador was generous to Jean would be a gross understatement. Money flowed in like we had never experienced and Jean had no need to use her pussy or ass for these earnings. All that was required was that she disrobe and whip the man and cleanse his wounds with peroxide when the whippings were finished.

Finally, the day came, when he told her that his term in Paris had ended and he was being recalled to Tokyo. For his final evening they ate at the Grand Palace on the Champs-Élysées where he gifted her with a lovely ruby necklace he'd purchased at Cartier. It was worth more than she might have earned in a year of sucking and being fucked. Of course the evening ended late at night, as always, and for the first time he asked her to strip away his loin cloth. To her surprise his penis and balls were nowhere in sight. "Oh mon Dieu," she exclaimed.

He responded, "this is God's punishment for my sins of the flesh, rather than kill me he has left me like this to live out my days unable to have sexual congress." he then demanded that she whip him unmercifully.

When in 1944, General MacArthur returned to the Philippines, the Japanese knew their rule was soon to be over. In a pitched battle outside the prison quarters, the Lieutenant turned to see his assailant, plunge a shiny steel bayonet with a single thrust right through his gluteus maximus. Had the wound been cleaned and had the bayonet not been thrust into the jungle soil prior to the assault, the Lieutenant's innards might have been spared, but fate and perhaps a moral judgement on high wrought havoc with his flesh as the jungle bacteria devoured pieces of his muscle, bone and internal organs.

When he finished speaking she said,

"Is there nothing I can do to give you pleasure?"

"No my dear, only if you might slit my throat would it bring me pleasure, but that would be to counter to God's will and the punishment he has decreed."