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VICTORIAN PHOTOS
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the illustrated book of FILTHYVICTORIANPHOTOGRAPHS
the illustrated book of FILTHYVICTORIANPHOTOGRAPHS
THE
I L L U S T R AT E D B O O KO F
FILTHYV ICTOR IAN
PHOTO GR APHSOr The Strange and Terrible Case of
the Hoxton Satyr
by
Christopher Peachment
london :the Erotic Print Society
2001
1514
17
THE ILLUSTRATED BOOK OF FILTHY VICTORIAN PHOTOGRAPHS
found myselfenjoying the foulLondon weather as ifit were the purestbalmy breeze waftingover the Boulevarddes Anglais at Nice. Aspell on SouthAfrican veldt will dothat to a man.
I was standing inthe portico of myclub in St James, watching the rain bounce off thepavements, and shaking the worst of it off mycape before going in. It was the standard issueshort cape, but at least it came down to my upperthighs, which was a blessing for reasons I will
Tableau number three, as performed in Madame Rowena’s specialhouse of delights, involved these two nekkid Bacchantes,celebrating the joys of the vine and mellow fruitfulness. One thingyou can certainly say for the Victorian education system is that itinstilled a proper respect for the Classics.
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THE ILLUSTRATED BOOK OF FILTHY VICTORIAN PHOTOGRAPHS
68
Madame Rowena, who had been gentlybut discreetly stroking my thigh up tillnow, began to undo my breeches. I
looked around furtively, but Hoppy was amusinghimself with a couple of doxies in a curtainedalcove.
“Sink me!” cried Madame Rowena, “I see whatyou mean! My, oh my!”
The old fellah had sprung out at last, mercifullyfree of its bonds, and it was still as stiff as atelegraph pole and very nearly as long. She beganrunning the slim cool fingers of her right hand upand down it, like little mice shinning up a table leg.And her left hand began to rummage a little lower.“My God, they are huge,” she said, “they can’t havebeen drained in an age.”
“Three weeks,” I said sheepishly, “and the damnthing stiff as a poker all that time.”
“Right,” she thundered, like a Sally Army majoron a mission from God. “Deirdre! Get all the girlsdown here at once.”
THE ILLUSTRATED BOOK OF FILTHY VICTORIAN PHOTOGRAPHS
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given a good seeing to. And still my old swizzle stickwas raring to go. It may have turned the colour of afire engine, and the poor old plums beneath wereswelling more and more and turning a nasty shadeof blue, but it still hadn’t done its business, and wasstill throbbing about like a fiddler’s elbow.
So I did the remaining five girls, and left themspent and mewing, the way they do.
“Well,” said Madame Rowena, “I never did.Deirdre, I think it’s time for Britannia.” And offDeirdre scampered, to do I know not what. After afew minutes, the curtain parted again from thefurther alcove, and there in all her glory was thefigure of Britannia, mother-queen to all England,and the only woman after our own dear Victoriawhom I would acknowledge as my mistress andobey without a second thought.
Many clients at Madame Rowena’s availed themselves of the historic costumes from her dressing up box. The “Brutal andLicentious Soldier practising his Yodelling up the Khyber” wasalways a popular item.
